Ba-bump—ba-bump—ba-bump—
She heard rhythmic drumming, soothing and steady. Rita smelled spiced musk, heady and sweet. Warmth enveloped her.
Ba-bump—ba-bump—ba-bump—
She opened her eyes, recognizing the beating that lulled her as a heart. Her face pressed against a chest. She craned her neck upward to see Reeve's fine-trimmed beard and chiseled, worn face.
At some point in the night they'd slumped over across the couch, Rita laying atop him, body warm from where her limbs tangled with his. One of Reeve's arms slumped over the edge of the couch. But the other rested upon her hip, pinning her against him.
She blushed, thankful he still slept soundly. With careful movements, she peeled away, regretting how the warmth vanished as they parted. He stirred but did not wake. Rita lingered, studying the hair falling into his eyes, the soft rise and fall of his chest as he slept. She shook her head, stirring half-baked thoughts from her mind.
Morning light had yet to break across the sky. Even still, Rita felt wide awake. Stretching out, she slipped away to shower, kneading the knots in her neck and adjusting to the slight headache rooting above her eye. She should have drank less last night, she thought while stepping under hissing jets of steaming water.
Then again, it had been easier to open up to Reeve once the bubbly had popped. They had ranted about their anger, their misgivings about how things had spun so far out of control, their mistrust of ShinRa—though Rita had been shocked to hear Reeve ever trusted any of them. Her grandfather had taught her well to never do such a thing.
Rita winced, guilt festering at the thought of Papa. She'd been lying to him about what was going on, had brushed him off so roughly and often as of late, even missing him on the holiday. She still stung, knowing he'd concealed so much from her—but really, was she any better? She didn't know how to begin breaching the gap between them. Shaking such thoughts from her head, Rita focused on readying for the day.
By the time she'd finished, Reeve sat awake on the couch. With mussed hair and bleary eyes, he looked from the half-empty bottle of wine on the coffee table at her with a somewhat sheepish grin.
"G'morning."
"Good morning, Director." Rita couldn't suppress her smile. "Feeling all right?"
"Actually, yes." He stretched. "I slept really well." His cheeks brightened. "You know, for sleeping on the couch."
Rita cast her eyes downward, hoping to fight off the flush flaring across her face. "Me too."
Reeve gently gestured to the space next to him on the couch, entreating her. Rita didn't hesitate, crossing to sit next to him while asking, "So. What's next? What's our plan?"
"For today?" Reeve mulled for a moment. "We have flexibility, especially while all the other executives are traveling north. And I have a few thoughts about what to do."
There were so many questions she wanted to ask, about what the others were doing, and what Reeve knew. As if reading her mind, Reeve offered her an encouraging smile. "Ask away."
Before she could, her phone shrilled. Rita expected it to be Papa. Yet the name illuminated on the screen wasn't her grandfather's, but Deputy Hart's. Ice coursed through her veins as she answered the phone.
"Deputy Hart, hello." Her voice sounded sharp, and Reeve sat alert from his place on the couch, expression alarmed.
"Rita, good morning," Deputy Hart's voice on the other end sounded weary. He never called like this. "I'm so sorry to call but—"
"What's wrong?"
"It's the Mayor. He needs to see you." The Deputy lowered his voice. "It's urgent."
She was already crossing to the door, pulling on her shoes as she headed out, casting an apologetic glance at Reeve, who had followed her in concern.
"I'll be right there."
Rita worried over any number of bad circumstances. Illness, or something happened with the larger AVALANCHE group—perhaps even tangible danger? Maybe Reeve was somehow wrong, and Rufus was back in Midgar, ready to expose her grandfather's group. The possibilities she imagined were boundless.
Stepping foot on the 62nd floor, however, Rita felt a different kind of anxious chill sweep over her. Not able to explain it, she spun around, looking for something, someone—
There. In the corner of the room, the collaborator whom she'd spied on weeks ago with Deputy Hart sat at a terminal. But Mr. Gray wasn't working. No. Instead, his eyes looked squarely transfixed on Rita. Watching her.
Rita realized, horrified, this wasn't the first time he'd watched her.
The door to her grandfather's office opened, and he stood with a jovial expression in the threshold. "Ah, mouse, there you are!"
The man in the corner continued to watch her as she walked forward into her grandfather's office, forcing her leaden legs forward one heavy step at a time.
No sooner had he closed the door did her Papa pounce.
"I want answers, Rita." She whipped around to face him, galled by this audacious statement. "Tuesti's ill. I've seen him collapse in front of me enough times to know it. But it's not just your boss's illness you're hiding, is it?"
His aggression deflated her. She clenched her fists. The Deputy had called her here, and for what? A berating? Domino expected her to cower like a little girl, shame her into spilling secrets. Rita frowned, guilt dissipating in a flare of anger.
"You're in no place to question me. I'm not the one having mysterious meetings with the President." She motioned angrily to the door. "And sending people to watch me? How could you!?" In her outrage, she cast all her caution to the wind. "Besides—I know you're part of AVALANCHE!"
"Finally put it together, have you?" Domino's expression remained relaxed, unbothered.
"What are you thinking!?" She hissed. Rita could overlook the over-protectiveness and perhaps even the lack of boundaries if not for the fact he acted so recklessly. "Don't you realize the danger you're putting yourself in?"
"I could ask the same of you Rita, with your late night visits to the slums and your babysitting ventures. What can I say? Like you, I've taken matters into my own hands."
A tremor ran through her. "H-how do you know all this?" Sending a man to watch her movements outside of headquarters could only get him so far. Rita knew the collaborator could not have seen her and Reeve all the time. And Reeve wouldn't have told Domino about Marlene, would he? No, of course not.
Domino strode to his bookshelf, pulling out a red book—only he didn't pull it out as much as he pulled it forward, and then there was a click—hiss. The panel behind the bookcase opened to another door—one whose existence Rita had never known anything about. Without a word, he opened it, revealing a second office—with walls empaneled from ceiling to floor with screen monitors. Displayed in high-definition, Rita spied the ShinRa building—nearly every nook and cranny, from the lower floors to each Executive's office.
Her stomach lurched. There, on a screen near the top of the room, a camera capturing the entrance to all the Executive apartment suites. Where she'd been staying. With her boss. Alone.
This whole time...her grandfather quite literally had eyes and ears all over the building. And he had known exactly what she'd been up to. She shuddered, head spinning.
"Rita, I know this all must come as quite a shock." He sounded too amused to believe his attempt at empathy. "But this as an opportunity for us both. I thought I needed to protect you from our group's...indiscretions." Domino laughed again. "Clearly, I should have capitalized on your skills earlier, you sneaky mouse."
How he could act so cavalier, Rita did not know.
"What exactly is the long term plan, here?" She asked, ire rising. "Aren't you worried about Rufus?"
"Quite the opposite. He's our benefactor."
Rita's nerves flared as she grasped Domino's meaning. "Wait—how—"
The how was quite simple, her grandfather explained with a condescending wave in her face. Rufus and AVALANCHE shared similar goals—an end to his father's brutal, wasteful regime, replaced by leader with actual business sense. "The partnership arose naturally. He funded our venture beneath his father's nose."
"You cannot be serious." Rita rubbed her brow, furious. She thought back to what she'd overheard the night after Rufus became president—Mr. Gray speaking in a hushed, worried tone to Deputy Hart, about the new president wiping out the other cells... She'd been so certain they were working against all of ShinRa. "And you actually trust him?"
"Why should I not? He provided your Division the funds to rebuild Sector 7 when his father denied them—and mind you, I doubt he'd have gone along with his father's plans to approve dropping the plate in the first place. He actually has the people's interests at heart."
"But isn't he working against your other AVALANCHE cell?"
Domino barked with laughter, but this time it sounded tinged with cruelty. "That group defected from ours long ago. I certainly can't fault Rufus for wanting to deal with them, after all the other trouble they caused to the reactors." He squared up to her gaze, waiting for her next parry, assured he'd respond with no issue.
"Then why focus on Reeve?" She huffed. "All that about the paper, and the early morning visits?"
"As you no doubt overheard," his lips curved into a sly smile, "the new President was merely testing the resolve of his Directors. He's quite curious to know how they'll pivot under his leadership."
"So, he strategizes and pushes everyone and waits to see what happens." Rita shook her head. "We're nothing more than pawns to him."
"You're beginning to understand." Heat flared in her belly at the condescension in his voice. "And in turn, he relies on me." With a flourish, Domino waved to the video screens.
"This whole time," Rita's voice quavered as she burned incandescent in her rage, "I thought that Rufus was trying to use me as leverage against you. But instead," her voice pitched to a heated shout, "you joined him in leveraging me against Reeve." She thought back to the night she met Marlene, to the terrified expression on Reeve's face as he pleaded with her. Tears pricked her eyes, and ferociously she blinked them away.
Domino jolted upright at her accusation. "Rita, that's not—"
"I don't want to hear it," she cut him off. "You've been using me." Crossing the threshold of the secret office, she ignored his protests. "I can't be part of this."
In her exit Rita locked eyes with Gray, who met her stare without flinching. She glared at him, slamming the door in her wake.
Fists pounding, Rita's fury resounded through the gym as she pummeled the training bag. Near blinded by her rage, she'd headed straight down to the Turks' facility, ignoring the fact that it was The Turks' facility, or that it was still early in the workday, and that the UrbDev team would need her assistance—especially after so much time spent out of the office.
She didn't care. Unfit as she were to work, the chance of her seeing Papa or any other secret minions again had whipped her into such fervor she knew she'd not be able to focus until she vented her feelings. Better off battering the bag than snapping at a colleague.
Besides. In the gym, Rita hid beyond her Papa's sight—it was an area she'd noticed not caught by his hidden cameras.
...How could she have been so blind? So wrong about Papa's role in all of it, so misguided about who was pulling the strings—and who was being pulled? She thought the canceled lunches and ashen expressions were driven because of fear of Rufus finding out his secret. But no...
To think, all of this started because she had wanted to protect Reeve. Instead, she'd put him in greater danger.
Rita had long lost track of time, but she did not let up. Gritting her teeth, she punched harder, not caring about the shock waves of pain pulsing up her arms, how her knuckles burned and likely bled beneath the tape. Belatedly, she realized her face felt wet. Tears flowed hot down her face. Outraged by herself, her own lack of composure, Rita slammed her fists into the bag again and again until finally, her body gave way.
Leaning against the bag, Rita cried—anguished about Papa and Elena, angry with herself for not putting the pieces together sooner. She sobbed and sobbed 'til, finally spent, she drew a steadying breath, cleaned her face, and stood straight. Silent, she wiped down the bag and began to untape her hands.
Bleeding. Of course.
Rita frowned. Unlike Elena, she didn't have any materia. And for all the time she'd spent in the Turks' gym, she'd never seen a first-aid kit, either.
Having no other options, Rita rifled through the lockers in the corner of the room. "Any gauze?" She muttered under her breath. The first three lockers, no luck. But the fourth…
Nestled in the corner of the locker, a glittering orb. Rita picked up the Cure materia. "This will work."
She didn't have much experience with materia, but knew enough of the basics. Grasping the orb tightly in her hand, feeling it's warm pulse against her, she drew a breath. As she did, she felt it flicker, the magic within coming to life. Warmth spread through every nerve in her body, the materia drawing upon her energy. "Cure," she whispered, emerald rays emanating forth, kneading her knuckles with cooling mist as her skin stitched itself together.
Rita looked down. Her hands still looked pink and raw—perhaps she'd slightly held back on the magic, undercut her own healing efforts. Still—"Good enough."
After a moment of thought, she closed the locker. Crossing to her bag, she stored the materia away in the pocket. She couldn't say why, but she also felt she didn't want to part with it—never knew when materia could come in handy. Foisting the bag over her shoulder, Rita exited the gym.
She approached the lift, rolling out the kinks in her neck and shoulders. As the doors to the elevator opened, she froze.
Mister Gray waited, arms folded over his chest.
"Your grandfather doesn't know I'm here." Then he added in a gruff tone, "And there are no cameras in the elevators."
Pulse quickening, Rita entered.
No sooner had the elevator begun its ascent did the collaborator speak. "The night of the assassination, AVALANCHE agents from all across the planet were gathered here to help overthrow the President." He looked at her. "Know what happened to all of them?"
Rita glanced sideways to meet his gaze. "Rufus had them killed."
"You were listening in on my conversation with Hart." Gray smirked, seeming impressed. "But yes. Only thing is—that night, Rufus didn't count on a rogue cell also being in the building. And when they got away, it threw his plans into jeopardy."
"How so?"
"Ultimately, they took something of value to him. And they were a distraction. One that gave some of our agents the time they needed to get away." Gray sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Though, our numbers are decimated. As far as Rufus knows, we're all but gone."
Rita shook her head in confusion. "If Rufus turned on all of you, then why is my grandfather still willingly working with him?"
"Isn't that the question?" Gray grimaced. "Those left have been wondering the same." He glanced at her. "That's where you come in."
"Me?"
"We need your help. Frankly, we think the Mayor's lost his marbles in cozying up to Shinra like he is. He's convinced sticking with Rufus is the play—says he 'trusts his vision'. But you," Gray stared hard at her, "you actually might be able to talk some sense into him. Help him to see things for what they are."
"I don't know why you think he'd listen to me." Rita regretted the bitter note in her voice.
"Your grandfather ordered me to watch you above all else. He's constantly concerned for you. You have more sway thank you think, Ms. Spencer."
"I have sway, but I'm also just cover. You don't seem inclined to push back against your boss, or even want to."
Gray studied her a moment. Then his lips stretched into an unctuous smile. "You seem to have more experience in that than I, to be sure." Shocked, Rita didn't respond.
The elevator chimed to signal their arrival. Without any further words, Gray stepped off the lift and walked away. Rita lingered behind for only a second before taking off down the hallway, mind racing. She knew what she needed to do.
As she burst through the office door, Reeve gave a start. Rita made no apology.
"We need to talk. Privately."
"...Working with Rufus this whole time." Reeve sat shocked, mulling over Rita's story from the privacy of his couch apartment, where he'd followed her unquestioningly after she'd barged in. "This certainly explains some things. I should have figured there was more at play with AVALANCHE. The larger group, that is."
"Those who survived Rufus' purge want me to talk some sense into Papa," Rita said. "As long as he continues helping Rufus, they're all in danger." She considered a moment before adding, "And so are we. You said without Tseng, Rufus isn't paying attention. But that's wrong. My grandfather is filling in the gaps."
Reeve frowned. "How has your grandfather even been able to share any information about us with Rufus?"
Finally, the part she least looked forward to. Rita steeled herself. "There are hidden cameras all over the building, and he monitors them from the Archives. I saw it myself—he has sights on all of the executive offices." After a beat she added, "And outside of the apartments, too."
Reeve's nostrils flared, his anger palpable. But he defused nearly as quickly as he enflamed, and with a guilty look said to Rita, "I suppose I have no right to be angry."
"All of us have been asked to go against our friends and family, in some way." Rita's voice sounded cold in her own ears. "We all have a right to be angry."
His expression softened, nodding his agreement. "You didn't know any of this."
"Papa confronted me about—about what's been going on with you. Why you've been sick." Seeing his stricken expression she hurried to add, "I didn't tell him anything."
His eyes widened, as if surprised. "Why not?"
Rita stalled, flabbergasted. "Well—why would I? He doesn't need to know the reason why you're overworked. It could put you in danger, if he knew you sent another Cait Sith."
His eyes met hers, his expression inscrutable. "What did I do to earn your loyalty like this? Especially after everything else."
"Director, I—" Rita paused. "The night Marlene arrived, you seemed so..." she struggled for the words, " even though you hid Cait Sith from me at first, it still seemed clear it was because you were worried. Because you cared." She thought back to the scene in the Corporate Archives, the look of her grandfather's glee. "My Papa seemed so proud to be conspiring with Rufus. That he was using me to get to you." Anger quaked within her.
Gently, Reeve's hand came to rest upon hers. As she looked down, she spied his pinky still shimmering pink with nail polish. She hooked her own thumb around his painted finger, pad tracing the top of his nail in a slow circle.
"Thank you, Rita. And I'm sorry. I never would have imagined the Mayor actually was..." He trailed off, lost in his head. "You said his collaborator thinks that you can sway him. What do you think, Rita?"
She couldn't find any words to muster an answer.
Reeve didn't press her. "It explains some of his behavior towards me." Reeve placed his finger to his lips, thoughtful. "But now, our positions are reversed."
"What do you mean, Director?"
"He doesn't know I have means of still helping AVALANCHE." With a strange expression, Reeve then said, "What if you told him I did?"
Rita gaped at him. "What? Why?"
"How would he react?
"Probably call Rufus right away, I suppose."
"Do you?" Reeve mused. "Even if he realized suddenly he had a means of operating beyond the President's control?" He shook his head. "Don't you think it's possible he's only going along with Rufus because he thinks if he doesn't, you and the rest of his agents are at risk?" Reeve ran his free hand through his hair.
"But if he believed he had another course of action, wouldn't your grandfather take it? I may not know him like you do, but I've seen firsthand how much he cares about Midgar and its people. I like to think he would."
Now, tears stung her eyes. Rita had only seen the brutish side of the man whom she thought betrayed her trust. But she hadn't taken a moment to imagine his fear, or even consider his earlier performance mere bravado. "When you put it like that..." She turned away, trying to be discrete as she wiped away her eyes. She needn't have bothered, for Reeve already moved to hand her his kerchief, which she accepted through her watery smile.
"Besides," Reeve continued, "your grandfather is correct in one sense. This is an opportunity—for our AVALANCHE. If we can get access to those cameras..."
"You're right." Rita couldn't deny it would give Cait Sith a huge advantage in supplying the group with information, to have sights on all of HQ. "You've certainly convinced me to try. If only for Cait Sith's sake." Reeve squeezed her hand. "Speaking of, how is he? Is the group safe?"
"We've nearly arrived at the Northern Crater." Reeve ran a nervous hand through his hair. "And I believe the Executives should be arriving any minute as well."
Rita inhaled sharply. "Why are they there?"
Reeve hesitated before meeting her eyes. "It's...well, it's a bit complicated."
"It's still early. I've got time."
Reeve explained all that he knew the best he could, how Sephiroth, with JENOVA's help, hoped to exact his revenge on ShinRa and the planet by using the Black materia and summoning Meteor. And the party had followed him north.
"Meanwhile, Rufus is convinced that the crater is the site of the Promised Land." Reeve sighed. "And he's hoping to use whatever mako the company can harvest from that site to stop Sephiroth."
"And AVALANCHE is trying to stop them both," Rita summarized. "Keeping Sephiroth from destroying the planet, and ShinRa from..." she trailed off.
"Destroying the planet, too," Reeve concluded for her. "Because that's what it is. Using mako the way we are."
"What do you mean?"
"I didn't want to believe it at first," Reeve's voice hovered over barely a whisper. "But I've ignored the warning signs for too long. And now I've seen too much to conclude otherwise. Mako—the Lifestream—it's made up of the planet's very essence, of all the souls of every being ever on Gaia. It's what sustains all life."
Rita's stomach lurched as she digested his meaning. "And all this time, we've been harvesting it..."
"Depleting it, with the reactors I created." Reeve closed his eyes, his brow furrowed in anger. "I keep playing it in my mind. The question: what if I had never designed them? Wouldn't the world be a better place?"
"But you didn't invent mako power itself," Rita countered weakly. "You pursued an invention in a society that encouraged you. That's not your fault."
Reeve smiled, the bitter bark of laughter accompanying it belying his sincerity. "Rita, you're too generous to me."
She didn't know how to respond to that. Instead, Rita changed the subject.
"So, they'll all be at the Northern Crater. What if Rufus sees Cait Sith? Won't he recognize him?"
"Probably—so Cait Sith will need to not be seen. He knows how to keep low and get whatever information he can from the encounter. And any information on Rufus will also help convince the Mayor," as he pointed this out, Reeve seemed optimistic for the first time in ages. But Rita must have still looked doubtful because Reeve rushed to say, "I know it feels like it's a long shot, but I think you can still trust your grandfather. At the end of the day, he only wants to protect you."
"You might be right," Rita finally assented. "But I'm worried about Cait Sith. I wouldn't exactly say he's the stealthy-type. If he's caught...
"Don't worry. He knows we're dead if he's seen. He'll stay hidden," Reeve met Rita's eyes, "trust me."
"I do."
Rita rehearsed on the elevator, mentally reciting the script she and Reeve had hammered out. She recalled the look on his face before she departed, the warm reassurance he seemed to project. It worked, somehow. As she stepped off the lift and into the archives, a calm washed over her. With Reeve's support, she didn't feel afraid.
Barely acknowledging Mr. Gray, Rita didn't bother knocking before she entered her grandfather's office.
Stalling mid-sentence, Domino and Hart stared at Rita as she entered stone-faced in scornful silence. Domino gave a wordless nod and Hart exited, avoiding her gaze and closing the door behind him.
"Well, Rita," Domino's voice sounded clipped, "I hope you've reconsidered what we discussed."
"I've considered quite a few things. The first being lessons you taught me when I was little."
"Ahhh." He clicked his tongue. "I don't suppose you mean 'mind your elders'."
"I mean 'never trust a Shinra'." She scanned him top to toe. "But I don't think you actually do trust Rufus. I think deep down, you're simply afraid. And that's clouding your judgment. You've put up a front in hopes I won't see, but I can. Rufus terrifies you, just like he does the rest of us. He's too powerful, and smart. You worry about what he might do—and what he's already done."
Domino made no reply, only glowered. Emboldened, Rita pressed on, "But I can offer you an out."
Now, her grandfather scoffed, stroking his silver mustache dismissively. "An out? What are you saying?"
"Reeve," she breathed deeply, "has been working with the rogue cell. And Rufus has no idea. No idea how strong they are, or that they're getting inside help."
Domino's jaw dropped, recovering only enough to ask, "What? How?"
"I can't tell you the specifics."
His eyes narrowed. "Then why are you telling me this now? Don't think I'll just tell Rufus?"
"You're not going to say anything."
"Oh? Why not?"
"Because it will put my life in danger." With a steel glint in her eye, Rita continued, "If anything happens to Reeve because you tell Rufus, I will make sure the President knows I aided Reeve willingly. Anything Reeve suffers, I'll suffer."
Whatever response her grandfather had expected, it wasn't that, his eyes widening with shock. Before he could reply, Rita added, "And if for some reason Rufus doesn't take that bait, I suppose it won't matter, because I'll never speak to you again."
That, she hadn't discussed with Reeve. But even as she ad-libbed she felt the flare of anger temper her resolve. If her grandfather betrayed her now, did anything to hurt Reeve, Rita would not—could not—ever forgive him.
Ire flashed in Domino's eyes. "Did Tuesti put you up to this?" He raised his voice, and she staggered back in surprise. "How dare he! And you! Why would you go along with him?"
"This is my decision. And I trust him, Papa. More than anyone else right now." Her voice pitched louder to match his. "If anything, Reeve believes you'll come around more than I do. He thinks that if you help us, we'll be able to stop ShinRa and help everyone for a change. But honestly, I'm not sure. All I know—" her mouth suddenly felt dry—"is that Shinra is too ruthless to trust."
Domino said nothing. His face had turned ashen and his mouth gaped, but no sounds came out and after a few futile attempts he pursed his lips.
More words threatened to burst from her, but Rita bit her lip to dam them. She'd said enough. Without a good-bye, Rita turned and slipped out of the office, silent as a mouse.
By all accounts, he shouldn't have been there. This was not how he expected things to go.
How he'd made it so far, even regained any trust from the group at all had been beyond his understanding. Perhaps it still wasn't trust at all, but the mutual benefit of working with such a traitor. It didn't matter now. He knew what he needed to do now—and he would not fail this mission.
Through the worn red fabric, Cait Sith peeked. He could make out little more than the outline of the Executives, all of them present save Palmer and Reeve. Of course, Sephiroth was there too...though not how he expected. Cait Sith had only glimpsed the casket of mako that encased the legendary warrior, though the split-second sight was enough to send a shiver down his spine.
But AVALANCHE had no chance to investigate the fallen SOLDIER. The ShinRa executives were here, and had confronted Cloud with Tifa and Barret. The rest of the group now kept careful watch—anticipating their enemy's next move—but they could not discern whetever overture the President now made. As he spoke, Rufus's head roamed toward the landscape where AVALANCHE lay hidden. Cait Sith felt Vincent pull the folds of his cape together, blocking out the light and the cat's view.
"Och, lemme see, Vince!" From the back of his mind, he felt the urgent tug of his creator in warning. But Cait Sith couldn't help it. The cat felt more pathetic than usual spying from such distance, his robotic Mog out of reach, hidden behind the rocky outcrop where the group crouched. "I need to know what's goin' on."
If Vincent intended to respond, it was interrupted by something unseen. Cait Sith registered the gunman's body stiffening, as if alarmed.
"What? What is it?!"
"Cloud..." Vincent's voice trailed off, the note of confusion registering as Cait Sith heard Yuffie and Cid's shocked gasps.
"—the hell he's doing!?"
"What's wrong with him? What's going on!?" Yuffie's voice shrilled with panic, and Cait Sith pulled aside the cloak to get a better view—only to once again be quickly snuffed by Vincent.
"It's too dangerous," he warned, voice low. "And something is happening to Cloud. He doesn't seem like himself."
"Wait!" Yuffie whisper-shouted. "Is that—what's he doing with the black materia?"
"I cannot see," Nanaki growled, claws kneading into the earth anxiously.
"Is he?—Shit, he is," Cid muttered curses inaudible to Cait.
"He's wha? Vincent, lemme see—"
"He's giving Sephiroth the materia." The usual cold note in Vincent's voice registered with an urgency that made the cat shiver.
Lowering himself to press his face to the cold earth, Cait Sith tried his best to peer through the ragged tears of the red cloak. He could make out the Executives, huddled around and attention captivated by Cloud, whose jerky movements called to mind the poisoned, discarded experiments of Hojo's that the party had encountered on the way up the mountain. Was something controlling the young man, prompting him to limp along entranced towards Sephiroth's cocoon, to relinquish the materia Cait Sith had sacrificed his first body for? It didn't matter—they were too far to do anything to stop their leader from handing over the prized weapon.
Cait Sith felt Vincent's entire body jolt. "We need to move—!"
The rumble of earth splitting asunder roared over the gunslinger's warning. In fluid movement, Vincent scruffed both Cait Sith and Nanaki and leapt just as the patch of ground beneath them collapsed. They landed a few paces away, to no avail—the entire landscape frayed, fault lines ripping through black rock as the world around them quaked.
"Vincent!" Cait Sith jostled, trying desperately to cling to Vincent as the group raced toward ShinRa's airship, engine already rumbling to life. Another whip-crack resounded though the air as rock began to crumble away, and Vincent leapt again, Cait Sith holding to the red cape tight as he could grip.
As they hurtled through the air, time seemed to slow, and Cait Sith registered with horror the unfolding of events:
Sephiroth's casket glowed, light and energy pouring forth in a hot beam into the sky above;
Scarlet let fly her ring-adorned fist into Tifa's jaw, sending the barmaid sprawling while—outraged and distracted—Barret thundered forward only to be throttled by Heidegger from behind;
around them, there were screeches of life, of creatures stirring whose screams seemed to shake the mountains;
below them, the ground completely gave way to the teal glow of the Lifestream itself and there—there!— in the mako, someone drowned.
Cloud!? Reeve's panic resounded through Cait Sith's being, and he only vaguely registered that the rest of AVALANCHE had made it to the airship, were clinging to the ladder not yet raised as the Highwind soared above and the rest of the world collapsed below.
Cloud was down there. He needed help.
Cait Sith glanced up at the hull of the Highwind and could vaguely make out signs of struggle. He realized too late that Scarlet and Heidegger—with surprising strength—overpowered Tifa and Barret. No one else would be able to get to Cloud.
But maybe Cait Sith could.
And this way, he'd stick to his mission. He wouldn't be seen.
"Wish me luck!" Cait Sith didn't wait for Vincent to catch his meaning nor did he bother listening to Reeve's pained protests before the cat leapt forward, plunging down into the Lifestream.
Her body ached with exhaustion, her heart hurt with grief. After the conversation with her grandfather, Rita returned to the gym to release the seismic anger pent within her. Now, she felt utterly spent, deciding to call it quits after the room around her seemed to shake in her tiredness, the ground beneath her lurching. She was overdoing it, clearly.
So it was with less care than usual that she trudged back toward Reeve's apartment, minding not to peek for the hidden camera trained on its door. Maybe it was just that the routine was becoming familiar, emboldening her with a casual air that a more put-together version of herself would have protested. Or maybe it was the lingering pain knowing even now in their silent anger, her grandfather probably watched. Drained as she felt, Rita didn't care anymore who saw her.
These were the thoughts that occupied her mind when she entered the apartment, still dark and empty.
Rita froze. She'd expected Reeve to be waiting for her, eager to hear about the conversation with Domino. As she scanned the darkened apartment, she barely made out a figure sprawled along the couch.
Hurrying over, she found him slumped unnaturally, eyes half-lidded and dazed. "Director?" Rita couldn't tamp down on the panic in her voice. Crossing to him, she placed a gentle hand against his brow—he felt cold, his skin clammy, and his breathing sounded shallow. Labored.
A vision flashed in her mind. No, not a vision—a memory. Of Rowan Rasberry, former Chief Reactor Engineer. Limply laying in a hospital bed, body still drowning in the leftover vapors of mako that had seeped into his skin. Such a horrible fate, one so undeserved. Rita barely slept for weeks after the Rasberry incident; she'd never forget what it look liked to see that man in such a state, to watch his wife and daughter mourn.
Now these were the thoughts that seized her as she tried to wake Reeve. What had happened? Why did he look like he had mako poisoning?
With a firmer hand Rita shook Reeve, her worry climbing at the sight of his limp neck swaying from her effort. Leaning over him, she saw the expression on his face, though catatonic, seemed strangely...relaxed? He mumbled something under his breath—earth, was it? She couldn't tell. His lips moved again, but no sound escaped him.
In desperation Rita grabbed him, one hand steadying his shoulder and the other cupping his face as she brought her eyes to his level.
"Director!" She shook him again. "Reeve, please, wake up!"
Thick lashes fluttered, Reeve's eyes scanned listlessly until, with acute alertness, they trained on her.
"Rita?" He rasped, and she could only watch as Reeve seemed to struggle to wrap his mouth around any words. He blinked twice, eyes slow but still focused on her.
"Director, what's going on? What happened?"
He studied her, eyes bleary with sudden exhaustion. For a second she thought he would say nothing, but he managed to slur, "Where to start?"
"Are you okay?"
He looked at her with a strange expression, and then to her shock, he smiled.
"Yes." He nodded, slumping a little bit back into the couch, eyes drooping sleepily. "I finally am."
"What does that mean?"
But Reeve didn't respond. Instead he drifted off and, despite her cries, did not awaken.
In the darkened apartment, Rita could do no more to help Reeve than press her face to his chest and listen, desperately hopeful, for the drum of a still-beating heart.