The Shinra tower never truly slept.

Even in the lonely hours of the night, there was always an IT worker installing an overnight update, a cleaner emptying the shredders, or a Turk disappearing behind a corner. And more often than not, Sephiroth, sitting in the First Class lounge with a laptop, working until the sun rose.

Sephiroth enjoyed the early mornings. They were quiet and peaceful, more so then his dreams tended to be. He didn't sleep much. It didn't even matter that there was less work to be done now that the war was over.

The sky was still black when the door slid open.

Genesis walked in, his eyes downcast and his brow furrowed. He nodded in greeting and made a beeline to the coffee machine.

"You're early," Sephiroth said.

Genesis grumbled something that sounded like, "tell me about it."

Sephiroth raised an eyebrow at his back. Once it would have been expected. Angeal would sleep until the world ended if permitted, but Genesis awoke early no matter how hard he tried not to. For years it had been tradition for him to join Sephiroth at this time and they would work in companionable silence. It was out of habit formed in those times that Sephiroth still spent his early mornings in the lounge and not his office.

That hadn't been the norm for some time. Genesis didn't show his face around the office until at least nine in the morning now if he could help it.

Genesis ran a hand down his face. The machine finished spitting out his coffee but he made no move to pick it up. When he said nothing else, Sephiroth turned back to his work.

"Have you ever learned something that made you step back and reassess your whole life?" Genesis asked after some time.

"No."

He pursed his lips. "Nothing has ever shaken you? Really?"

"That's not the same question," Sephiroth said. "There's being shaken and there's a complete change of perspective."

"What's shaken you then?"

"I didn't say I had been." Sephiroth kept typing.

Genesis scoffed and picked up the coffee. In his peripheral Sephiroth saw him stand moodily at the window, staring down the green glow of the city. He was leaning against the glass with the shoulder he had been favouring for months.

"Do you remember when I broke Angeal's leg?" Sephiroth asked.

"To reset that bad break in the jungle last year or when we were teenagers?"

"The second."

"You didn't look especially shaken." Genesis looked back over his shoulder. "Not compared to Angeal anyway."

Sephiroth stared fixedly at the screen. "I was. Why do you think I refused to fight either of you for so long after that?"

"I assumed we were too beneath you. You told us not to challenge you unless we were prepared for it, and we weren't." Genesis turned and leaned back against the glass, looking at him seriously over his steaming drink. "It wasn't even the first time you beat us to a pulp."

"It was the first time I regretted hurting someone. You and Angeal always treated me like a person, not a weapon, not a specimen. Until that moment... I hadn't considered that you were people too."

Genesis stared at him. He couldn't bring himself to look back. When no reply came he started typing again. He had forgotten this aspect of sharing the mornings: he got a lot less work done.

The silence stretched out and grew heavy. Sephiroth kept working, unprepared to challenge it. Angeal's leg had snapped without noise that day but he had felt it in his hand. The black of the night sky bled into grey.

"What is freedom worth?" Genesis asked quietly.

"What?" Sephiroth looked up. "What is it worth to who? Freedom of what?"

"Say, personal freedom."

"Self-determination is a significant factor on quality of life," he replied, slow and sceptical of the question.

Genesis watched him through sharp eyes. "And how much would you sacrifice for it?"

"You already know the answer to that." He had been living in the labs still when Genesis and Angeal demanded a place in his life. They had seen how hard he had to fight for the luxury of his own living quarters.

"What about the freedom of those beneath you? How much would you sacrifice for them?"

"Surely that's their own cause to sacrifice for. I am not responsible for everyone else."

"And if you look down and realise you're the one holding the leash?" Genesis swallowed harshly. "How much is their freedom worth?"

"I would have to decide on a case by case basis."

"So whether or not someone is entitled to freedom is a matter of convenience, devoid of principle? You are worthy of freedom because you want it, but others aren't because you don't want it?"

He shrugged. "Accuse me of selfishness if you like, I can't make a blanket statement. It's not worth the world, some restrictions must be made." He leaned back on the couch and crossed his arms. "I've seen how strict you are with your own men, what of their freedoms?"

"I don't impede on their personal lives," Genesis sniffed.

"Sometimes you have to, they still have to follow your orders."

"It's not the same."

"Not the same as what?" Sephiroth narrowed his eyes, remembering the question that started the discussion. "What are you getting at?"

Genesis looked out to the night again. Shades of Pink tinged the horizon. Somewhere beyond the smog, the sun was rising.

"Everyone answers to someone."

Sephiroth nodded. "We all make concessions. That's what society is."

"A bleak view on things."

"Nobody who exists around others can truly do whatever they wish, not even president Shinra can do whatever he wants. Absolute freedom requires isolation."

"No it doesn't," Genesis scoffed. "Isolation is its own limitation."

"Then there is no freedom in life," Sephiroth said. He put the laptop aside and rose to get another drink.

Genesis was looking at him with a very grim expression.

"...Is there only freedom in death then?"

"Of course not." He emptied out the old coffee grounds and refilled the water tank. "The dead aren't free, they're just dead. Nothing is achieved with oblivion."

"Surely that's the decision of the party in question," Genesis whispered.

Sephiroth watched the machine spit out its standard black sludge.

The implications of Genesis' words dawned on him. His head snapped up to stare at his old friend.

"Who are we talking about?"

Genesis looked back at him blankly for a moment. His eyes widened in realisation.

"Not me! I'm not- you think I would consider dying anything other than a defeat?" He scoffed. "No."

"Then what are we talking about?"

Genesis crossed his arms and didn't meet his eyes. He hadn't even quoted Loveless once. Sephiroth's concern refused to subside.

"Consider... a summon spirit," Genesis said, eventually. "Summons are sentient beings and we hold the Materia themselves to have been formed by the Ancients."

Sephiroth nodded along, he had heard that theory before and could see where it was leading. "There's no actual proof that summons are fully sentient, they could be automatons for all we know."

"Let's assume they are."

"Then either they were created for the purpose they now fulfil, or were sentenced to it by the Ancients."

Genesis raised his eyebrow. "Created to be bound? Yes, that's much better. Does a slave who is born to it not deserve freedom as much as one who was born free?"

"It's not the same thing."

"Why not?"

Sephiroth shook his head. It couldn't be the same, and talking of human rights in Shinra tower was a doomed exercise to begin with. "Who are we, who rely so heavily on the Ancient's wisdom, to turn and question it?"

"Who are we to excuse ourselves by hiding in ignorance? Who are we to take it on faith that someone we've never met and cannot so much as name made the right choice for the right reasons?" He looked searchingly out into the new morning. The sky had turned soft blue beyond the scraggly grey clouds. For a single unassuming moment, Midgar was beautiful.

"Since when are you sceptical of the Ancients?" Sephiroth asked. "Doesn't their mythic connection to the planet make them above reproach?"

Genesis shook his head. "No one is above reproach."

The corner of Sephiroth's mouth turned up. "Not even you?"

He got a scathing side-eyed look in response.

"You have never considered me above reproach."

He smiled and picked up his coffee. "I missed these pointless discussions."

"They're not pointless," Genesis snapped.

"Go bring freedom to the oppressed then."

"Maybe I will."

Sephiroth gestured at the city. "By all means, proceed."

Genesis tossed his hair back. "Just watch me."


A fireball exploded. The sparks skittered over a barrier, burning through the surface level magic before dying out.

A thundering blast of lightning followed hot on its heels. The barrier held. A tattered old pillow stuffed with old weeds and sawdust sat unharmed within.

Hawke saw Aerith's eyes narrow.

She smirked and yanked up another weed from the tulip patch.

Another fireball slammed against the unimpressed barrier.

"I'm gonna get ya," Aerith said, snipping the last ripe green bean off the stalk. She threw it onto a trestle table, next to the rest of the harvest.

"Sure you will." Hawke brushed her fringe out of the way, probably smearing dirt on her forehead.

They were in the half light of morning outside of Aerith's house and the temperature was steadily rising. They'd spent some time harvesting peacefully together before they got bored and decided to practice gesture-free magic simultaneously. Hawke's barrier was holding strong, but Aerith's bombardment was picking up steam.

"So then what happened?" Aerith asked. She sat on the table and swung her feet. Spears of ice exploded against the surface of the barrier.

"The dream collapsed. I assume Genesis woke up, taking Shiva with him," Hawke replied. It had been a few days but the experience lingered. 'The war is over,' Shiva had said, pulling at her shackles, her voice breaking with grief and Fade had drawn from Genesis' memories and populated the island with fallen SOLDIERs and Wutai's defenders, a cacophonous nightmare.

Hawke lowered her eyes.

"I think I owe Genesis an apology," she admitted.

"Why?" Aerith asked, concerned and curious. Lightning cracked.

"I threw him into something he didn't understand and had no defences against. It ended in… what looked like a war flashback."

"Oh. Could you have stopped it?"

"I could have warned him. Or tried to control the context better so it didn't spiral out of hand." She sat back in the dirt, giving up her hunt for weeds. Dried earth coated her arms up to her elbows.

"Why didn't you?" Aerith's legs stopped swinging for a moment. An explosion of grasping vines burst out of the earth and threw themselves at the barrier. It hadn't flickered yet, but it would soon.

"I wanted to see what he would do when left to his own devices."

Aerith hummed. "He just had a nightmare, right? It's not nice, but it's not… that big of a deal. You didn't cause it. And you said yourself you can't shape the Fade, nobody is going to blame you."

"No. But I led him there."

"What's the worst that could have happened?"

"He never wakes up again," Hawke said, drier than the dirt flaking off her arms.

Aerith's eyes widened. The bombardment halted.

"Can that really happen?"

"Yes. It can." Which Hawke knew was knowledge nobody else had, and she had kept to herself. She let her head fall forwards in shame. How many more inventive ways could she concoct to make people's lives worse?

"People don't write letters here, do they?" she asked. That was how she preferred to offer apologies, with unrepentant cowardice and no eye contact.

"Not really. Snail mail is for bills and, like, legal stuff," Aerith said, a smile pulling at her mouth. She squinted in concentration and three fireballs rained down on the barrier in quick succession. "I taught you how to text, Hawke, but you never reply to my messages. Are you... having some problems?"

Hawke refused to let her face react. "You're going to be insufferable about this, aren't you?"

Aerith gave her an angelic smile. Fire roared down from above and reflected on the shiny buckles of her jacket. "Remember when I forgot how to cast that stone barrier and you chased me around the church with electrical wisps until I figured it out?"

Hawke's lips twitched. "Doesn't sound like something I'd do."

The barrier flickered.

"Hawke, did you forget how to text?"

"Of course not. Who could forget something so simple?"

Another volley of fireballs exploded and the barrier collapsed with a crunch. The stuffed pillow case exploded into blue flames

"Ha! Yes!" Aerith yelled, jumping to her feet and throwing her hands up. Then she spun and pointed a finger at Hawke. "I won! Now you have to tell me."

Hawke snorted and shook her head. "Fine, you got me. I moved the envelope symbol by accident and now I can't find it."

"Do you mean the icon?"

"It is a distinct possibility."

Aerith held out her hand. "I'll fix it for you."

Hawke handed off her phone. "Thank you, you're very gracious."

Aerith winked at her.

She hauled herself up and went to fetch the tubs they were using for the vegetables. They had already picked all the other ripe produce earlier and would be making their first attempt at selling them after lunch. Elmyra's fridge was packed with fresh vegetables. Mostly Zucchini. Hawke really hadn't expected it to thrive that well, they actually had to cut the vines back before they strangled everything else. She hadn't expected any of it to grow so well, in all honesty.

She came back out with the tubs, Aerith handed her phone back, and they packed the beans up.

"What war do you think Shiva was talking about?" Aerith asked as they worked.

"I don't know. Did the Cetra ever go to war?" Hawke replied, trying to pass it off as a careless curiosity. Wisdom, or Shiva, had mentioned Mythal. What did that mean in relation to Gaia? Mentioned in the same sentence as a war… a shiver of unease ran down Hawke's spine.

Aerith hummed. "I don't think so. Does the Calamity count?"

"That's the lady who fell from space and ate people?"

"That is very disrespectful."

"Is that not what happened?" Hawke blinked. "If the Calamity was their last stand, the summon Materia must have been made before then anyway. I assume."

"I guess so." Aerith chewed on her top lip for a moment. "Mythal must have been one of the matriarchs. Maybe she sent Shiva as a spy to a rival clan, and she got caught. Inter-clan espionage, sabotage!" She snapped a rubber band around a final bundle of beans and tossed them into the tub. "What a scandal. Grandma Mythal, I'm ashamed of you."

Hawke laughed. It petered out quickly. She sucked in a steadying breath and decided to commit to saying it outloud.

"She wasn't a matriarch. She wasn't even a Cetra."

"How do you know?"

"Because I knew her name before I got here." And the name she went by these days.

Aerith paused midway through clapping the dirt off her hands.

Hawke spoke quickly before her own hesitation could cut her off: "She was the Elvhen goddess of motherhood, the sky, and justice. Also herbology and poetry, which really feel like they ought to be Sylaise's domain, but whatever. She was head of the pantheon so I guess she got to call dibs."

"Oh." Aerith blinked at her owlishly. "'Elvhen'?"

"An ancient magical species of Fade Shapers that ruled Thedas before humans came along."

"Huh."

"Hm," Hawke agreed.

"When did they live?"

"Oh, roughly two thousand years ago," she said lightly.

Aerith's eyes narrowed. "Huh."

"Hm," Hawke repeated for symmetry's sake.

"Would this Mythal send spirits to spy on the Cetra?"

"It was all so long ago, who can say?" Hawke said, in place of the 'yes, and then she'd send armies,' that jumped to her mind first. The Cetra lived in peaceful nomadic clans, according to historians. The elves lived in an empire. An empire that Mythal and her family had personally built, the old fashioned way.

She shook her head, no time for any of that, there was food to be eaten and wares to be sold. She lifted the tub and carried it inside.

Aerith was quiet for most of lunch. She looked to be stewing, and Hawke left her to it.

She swung back on one of the kitchen chairs, sandwich in hand, and pulled out her phone. The little picture of an envelope glowed back where it was meant to be. She tapped it and took a moment to wonder what the problem was now since nothing happened. Oh, that was right, the glass didn't like her gloves.

She discarded them, then felt too exposed, staring down Genesis' contact details.

She gulped down her trepidation and a mouthful of tuna and soggy bread, and wrote what she hoped wouldn't embarrass either of them too severely. She highly doubted he would want her to make a fuss out of what she had seen, any more than she wanted to make a fuss over having been responsible for it in the first place.

'No apology is necessary,' he responded a moment later. Her shoulders sagged. 'We are all subject to the night, are we not? There are no dreams, no honour remains.'

She was puzzling over what that meant, when he sent another message.

'Incidentally, texts do not require salutations.'

Ah. Aerith hadn't said anything. It hadn't occurred to her that she couldn't just text people the same way she would write them a letter.

'So this is an acceptable way to compose a message?' she said, with no further greeting or signing off, and feeling the ghost of her mother shaking her head over her shoulder.

'It is accepted practise, yes.'

'It feels unbearably rude.'

'I wasn't aware that was something you struggled with,' he wrote.

'Until five seconds ago I would have agreed with you.
Sincerely, Hawke.'

'You are the most lackadaisical conversationalist I know in person and yet the most formal on paper.
Charmed, Genesis.'

"Could you please put that on silent?" Aerith said from the other side of the table and a pile of zucchini.

Hawke held the phone out and had it returned to her half a second later.

That was one more set of social norms she was going to have to learn from scratch. Good thing she had lost Reno's number immediately after he gave it to her, he probably would have been less gracious about her gafs.

'While I have your attention,' Genesis wrote, 'are you available to perform some healing this afternoon?'

She frowned at the screen, 'Did you get hurt again?'

'It's not for me. My brother in arms suffers the same affliction as me. He doesn't know it yet, but he is starting to show signs.'

She glanced at the piles of food they were planning to sell, and hatched an idea.

She told him he would have to come to her.


Genesis led Angeal onto a train heading for the slums.

He peppered him with questions about the Loveless performance they had been to the other night. Genesis knew full well Angeal didn't especially care but if he asked with enough insistence then Angeal would focus and dredge up an opinion instead of asking too many questions.

"I liked the props." Angeal leaned against a pole in the middle of the carriage, bearing it with good grace. "That swinging rig the goddess repelled down from was impressive."

"Tacky." Genesis lifted his chin. "It stole what little gravitas the adaption had, and replaced it with empty spectacle."

"The crowd loved it," Angeal replied lightly.

"Well yes, but they would, wouldn't they?"

Angeal rolled his eyes and looked out the window.

"So are you going to tell me where we're going?"

Genesis shook his head. "Honestly, Angeal."

The fact of the matter was he didn't actually know what Hawke was planning. He was about to say what he was planning either.

He snuck a look at angeal, who noticed. He didn't move as though he was suffering, but he was paler. There was a slight papery quality to his skin that had never been there before. Even Sephiroth had noticed because he told him to get more sleep, in that awkward way of his.

Genesis reflexively rolled his shoulders. No sting, no residual ache. Sometimes he could swear he still felt it, it had followed him for so long.

Angeal didn't know. He hadn't suffered any injury bad enough that Hollander would risk telling him. Angeal was a stickler for rules and a great respecter of authority. He wouldn't entertain the thoughts of rebellion that Genesis had if he learned about the degradation, wouldn't be the co-operative weapon the scientist wanted. He'd…

Well. Genesis couldn't fully predict what he'd do, but the news that his honourable parents were Shinra employees and his entire life a lie would cut him to the quick. It was unnecessarily cruel. Fortunately, it was also entirely avoidable.

The train stopped below plate. People looked at them curiously and whispered as the two of them got their bearings. It had been a crisp day above plate, but it was warm and damp below.

"This way," Genesis called, setting off according to Hawke's surprisingly comprehensive directions. He had gotten lost almost every time he came down here.

"Genesis, what are we doing?" Angeal replied.

They turned the corner into a little market. The directions ended here.

"We are..." Genesis said, searching for a black head of hair amidst the roaming civilians. People stopped and gawked at them. He caught sight of a familiar pair of armoured boots propped up on a bench. Hawke's gangly form leaned back on a chair next to a trestle table covered in fresh vegetables. "...Grocery shopping," he finished.

"You don't do your own shopping," Angeal argued, before his eyes landed on the produce. He sucked in a sharp breath.

"Where did you get those?" he asked, stepping up to the table with rapt fascination.

The teenage girl who had been in Junon appeared at Hawke's side, smiling cheerily. "Grew them right here! Go on, have a sniff, they're good."

He picked up a tomato and examined it, asking eager questions about soil quality. Genesis affectionately shook his head. Angeal could be such a nerd about these things.

A line of curious onlookers formed behind them.

"Wow, a real life SOLDIER," Hawke said, rising from her chair and smiling lazily. "At my stall? I can't believe it."

"Believe it." He flashed his indulgent celebrity smile. He looked sidelong at Angeal and back again. "We're just here to shop, no need to make a fuss." She knew what he needed, nobody could know. Especially Angeal.

She nodded. "And, uh, what can I get you?" She tilted her head in concentration. Her eyes lost focus. There was no mystical glow or sensation in the air, nothing to give away the trick.

He looked down. "Beans." That ought to satisfy any questions.

"I'll get you a bag," she said. She blinked then moved behind the girl, fussing with bags, boxes, and scales with unbearable slowness.

"I can barely get anything to flower in the city," Angeal was saying to the girl. "What kind of fertiliser are you using? Did you grow these from saplings?"

Hawke did a lingering loop around their side of the stall, looming with all the subtlety of a storm cloud. Genesis resisted the urge to close his eyes in despair.

Angeal flicked a hand like a fly had buzzed near his ear. He looked around.

"These were from saplings," the girl replied, "but the tomatoes and zucchini are all from seed. Same as the basil."

"No! You did not grow basil in Midgar, did you?" he said, his attention seized again.

"From seed," the girl replied triumphantly. "No white aphids either. Here, look."

Hawke contrived to leave the stall and walk through the line forming behind them, passing right next to Angeal. She made a complex shape with her fingers and brushed his back.

"Oh, sorry," Angeal said, stepping forward.

"Not a problem." She patted him on the back. Distract him, she mouthed at the girl over his shoulder.

"Genesis, did you just cast something?" Angeal asked, his brow heavy over his eyes. Hawke doubled back and walked behind him again the other way.

"No, why?" Genesis replied, his head in his hand. Was it possible Angeal could be as oblivious as Hawke was obvious? Would the goddess grant him that mercy?

"I know you! You're Zack's mentor. Angeal?" the girl exclaimed.

"Uh, yes." His brow furrowed for a moment, before realisation dawned. "You're Aerith. Pleasure to-" He spun around suddenly, startling the people in the line. There was no sign of Hawke, only an elderly gentleman holding an empty chiller bag. He shrunk back from the large SOLDIER First.

"Oh. Sorry." Angeal turned back around, sheepishly scratching the back of his neck. "Sorry. It's a pleasure to meet you, Aerith. Zack talks about you all the time. He mentioned you had a garden, and that you grew flowers."

"They're more of a luxury good. What else does he say about me?"

Hawke popped back up behind the stall, opposite Genesis.

"So you wanted some beans?" she said, perfectly nonchalant. Her eyes were fully focused and looking all too pleased with herself.

He gave her the driest look he could. She raised an eyebrow with what he felt was an accusation. He crossed his arms and looked down his nose at her. She scoffed and crossed her arms back at him.

"What are you two doing?" Angeal asked.

"You know, Angeal, you're being very odd today," Genesis declared, spinning around and demanding the entirety of his attention.

"You're the one who's being odd. Not that I don't approve, it's good to support local business."

"Naturally. But are you sure you're feeling alright?"

"I'm fine," Angeal said, giving him a weird look. His skin was a healthier colour already, the capillaries on his neck no longer visible. His hair even looked a darker shade. He rolled his shoulders. "Better than fine, actually. I feel great."

"That'll be the fresh air," Aerith said.

Angeal snorted a laugh and turned back to face her. "I think that's everything."

She bagged it up for him.

"Thank you for your business." She beamed. "That'll be eighty gil."

"Eighty!"

"Friend's discount," she said with a wink.

Genesis returned to Hawke.

"Satisfied?" she murmured, arms still crossed.

He inclined his head.

"Are you a permanent installation here?"

She shrugged. "Depends on how long the stock lasts. We do take orders, for all your after-hours legume needs."

"Dreams of the morrow hath the shattered soul," he replied. He would meet her in the Fade.

She nodded seriously. "Pride is lost, Wings stripped away." She slapped a bag of five individual beans into his hand. "The end is nigh."


A/N: Thanks for reading! All reviews are welcome.

Next Time: Wisdom's advice