Chapter Two: Denial

Playing the final act of a murderer, Tifa buried Neyli and Vaniir in a shallow grave she'd spent most of the night digging within the walls of her own shack. When the ground inside was as smooth and untouched as she could force it to appear, she loaded her one-roomed home with all of her gleaned building supplies and topped it off with random garbage until the pile nearly touched the ceiling. Finally, she pulled sheets of metal down from the walls outside, making it look like nothing more than another common trash heap. She would no longer need that tiny place that barely shielded her from the elements. As long as she could ignore how her neighbors had died, or that they'd died at all, their house was as good as hers.

As she worked, Tifa devised a little tale she could tell herself every time she thought of them: Vaniir and Neyli were away, taking care of whatever unclean business Vaniir had concocted this time. In an unexpectedly gracious, likely drug-influenced move, they'd allowed her to watch their house. No, she had no clue when they'd be back, and neither did they, but until then, she'd be more than happy to keep the place clean, and take care of their pet-something. What in the world was that thing? It looked absolutely nothing like any creature or mutant she'd seen on Gaia.

"Well, hopefully they're not gone for too long," Tifa quietly complained to herself, affirming her lie. "I still have a lot of work to do. I've been so busy, and my house is a disaster area."

"...At least it will be more comfortable," Cloud agreed.

Tifa exhaled in relief. She hadn't heard from her friends since last night, when she'd found-that is, since Neyli and Vaniir had departed, and she'd found the keys to their house in her hands. For a little while, she'd have uninhibited access to food, water, and a clean place to sleep. Or at least, it would be clean once she found the time to straighten the place up. Vaniir had always been such a slob. But she wouldn't get rained on through a leaky ceiling or wake up to find some disgusting, unidentified insect crawling in her hair or creeping down through her clothes. Perhaps her friends were simply shocked that her luck had turned for the better so suddenly? Tifa couldn't say she blamed them for not knowing what to say. Things were seriously looking up, weren't they?

Smiling and gently humming to herself, Tifa unlocked her neighbors' front door, and slipped inside. A solid floor, similar to laminate, clicked beneath her feet with each step, a welcomed change to her usual, bare-earth accommodations. Before her, the trash-laden living room offered one acceptably clean spot: a soft, plush couch just perfect for napping on. The mere sight of it made Tifa release a monster yawn so forceful her jaw cracked.

"Oh, goodnight," she mumbled to no one.

But there was a problem. Someone had beat her to it. The room was filled with smoke or haze, and someone was lounging right where she intended to fall comatose. He was brazen as ever, sitting carelessly, stretched out and enjoying the very spot she so desperately needed. Genesis always barged in like this, though, startling her to make sure he had her attention. Some day in the very distant future, she might learn to ignore him, or so she could only pray.

Taking a step back, Tifa steadied herself against the wall behind her. Genesis, Cloud, and the others only ever interfered so directly with her daily life when she was either about to take too great of a risk, or when, sadly, she was beginning to crack under the stress of all she'd endured. Genesis was particularly intolerant of her more severe mental slip-ups. The lie she'd just chosen to believe in was still so fresh, his arrival made her strain against compulsively recalling what had really happened.

Languidly, Genesis flipped a page in the hard-bound copy of LOVELESS he always carried, pretending to ignore her.

Tifa sighed and crossed her arms, waiting for him to say his piece. It just wasn't Genesis unless he made some kind of entrance, or put on his obligatory melodramatic act. His intros were very effective, though; they had an annoying way of completely disarming and distracting her from whatever charade she was trying to keep up.

At last, he closed the book and peered up at her. Gesturing around the room with one hand, he commented, "Was there not a parasitic couple taking up residence here only last night? As I recall, you'd been quite adamant about avoiding them. Remind me again, Tifa: Where have Neyli and Vaniir gone?"

Squirming inside, Tifa bowed her head to avoid Genesis' piercing glare, intent on breathing life into the new reality she'd chosen. "They...they ran into me last night when I got back. Actually, it was more like I ran into them, just outside my door. That's when they gave me their keys. They didn't really say how long they'd be gone or even where they were going, but I kind of got the feeling it would be a while. I can only hope they don't get wrapped up in anything too reckless, but knowing them…I guess I just have to do my best to take care of things for them in the meantime."

"How fascinating they couldn't share their destination. Are you certain they didn't?" Genesis pushed.

"I don't know where they went!" Tifa insisted, a panicky edge creeping into her voice. If there was one thing she couldn't bear right now, and one thing she didn't have the patience for, it was having to face a surprise interrogation by someone who wasn't going anywhere until he got the answers he wanted.

Genesis stood, and paced to peer out the window. Dim light seeped through the curtains when he pushed them aside, briefly brightening the whole room. "Fair enough, I suppose. I have to wonder why you chose not to sleep last night, however. Between your unsuccessful hunting journey outside the Cluster and your late-night scavenging, you should have been exhausted, no?"

"...I am, actually. Before you showed up, I was heading to bed. Now, it looks like I'm going to have to waste the whole day sleeping. We can talk about it later," Tifa tried, mustering the most put- off tone she could.

Genesis smirked, and peered almost playfully out of the one eye his bangs didn't veil. "Allow us both a more accurate account of what happened, and I'll gladly take my leave."

Tifa lowered herself to the floor, and held her head in her hands. What really happened? She'd already decided she wasn't going there. Pretending not to remember much of what had transpired on Gaia most of the time is what made it possible for her to live her day-in, day-out life without totally losing her mind. Why didn't Genesis understand that? Last night's true events had brought every accursed detail back, right up until she'd finished burying the evidence, and simply decided that no such thing had occurred. To change her mind-no. Just no. She couldn't handle it. She wouldn't.

A wistful half-smile later, she answered him, "I'm sorry, Genesis, but I don't really remember anything. I'm not so sure I want to, either."

"But you will, eventually, and whoever serves to remind you may not respect your wishes as we have thus far," Genesis pointedly warned.

"'Thus far?' What's that supposed to mean?"

"You are a vessel for the Goddess, Tifa. Your very life has become a dangerous anomaly that only she can support. If it is not in her best interest for you to continue supplanting the truth, then you won't."

Tifa felt her pulse double, and her stomach clenched painfully. A thick shadow covered the room, and in it, she beheld the Goddess of Gaia for the first time in over a year. Minerva had changed. Gone were her torn clothes, scars, and bent armor. In their place, she wore only her tiara and a simple white dress, lined and plated with cerulean and gold trim. Soft, aquamarine wisps of Gaia's remaining clean Lifestream flowed around her, and Tifa thought she could hear the sound of her friends' conversing voices drifting within them. But most ominous was the gargantuan bow the Goddess clutched her right hand, composed entirely of her former combat gear. And in her left, what Tifa had once thought was some kind of holy staff, she now understood was its arrow.

The Goddess was fully prepared to rain down her wrath on whosoever she would, and although it made little sense, Tifa was tempted to believe that she was the next target. But all she received was a subtle nod of Minvera's head, judging Genesis' words true, and a small voice that she felt more than heard, repeating, "The doors must remain open henceforth…the doors must remain open…"

In that instant, the events of the previous night flooded back into Tifa's consciousness with sharp and merciless clarity. Vaniir and Neyli had died sudden, violent, and all-too-familiar Geostigma deaths, the implications of which were grim at best. Geostigma was a Gaian problem to the best of Tifa's knowledge, and here she was, clandestinely carrying the last of her world's souls and its deity. The only ones that had contracted the illness were people on whom she'd actually wished it. Not that she'd really wished anything upon Neyli aside from escape, but it was too easy to write her off as a casualty of bad karma or some force like it.

"She's not a host, is she?" Tifa asked Genesis, slowly recovering from her vision, unable to staunch a few long-held tears. "Am I?"

What if Sephiroth had only allowed her to escape because either she or the Goddess carried some kind of dormant variety of his Geostigma virus?

"No, but this world may have its own lingering rot. As self-proclaimed defender of the Promised Land, Amyntas may have encountered Jenova long before she came to Gaia. Not to offend, but I should think that Sephiroth's presence would be stronger felt than two inconsequential slum rats laying dead at their neighbor's door."

Inconsequential-Tifa had no problem thinking of Vaniir that way, but not Neyli. Neyli had helped her survive in this strange place, and to her own harm. Yet, she understood what Genesis was implying. To Sephiroth, just those two strangers would mean practically nothing. He would have gone much, much further.

Unless he was hell-bent on communicating something specifically to her.

Tifa shook her head, trying to rid herself of that idea. It was ridiculous! What could such a message possibly be? 'Your most foul wish is my command?' There was no point in that. If he found her, he probably wouldn't spare a moment for trivial mind games this time around. She was certain that Sephiroth's prime target at this point would have to be Minerva. If he acted on any kind of sound logic, he'd just go in for the kill and take what he believed was destined to become his all along. After that, with his deification complete, all he'd have left to accomplish would be a quick interstellar walk to the Promised Land. Why waste time toying with her?

"I need to be more careful what I wish for, huh?" Tifa said.

"To the contrary, I'd pay much less attention to petty coincidences, and more to the world you're in. You can't truly believe that not a single one of these people suspects your true origins. Human they may not be, but their nature is very much the same. With death literally on your doorstep, you'd make an easy scapegoat for anyone who wishes to strike at the unfamiliar to maintain a false sense of security," Genesis explained.

"But-!" Tifa started to argue, but he was gone. She groaned and yawned, finally flopping down onto the couch. "Just come and go whenever you want, Genesis! So long as you have the last word, right?"

She wasn't buying into Genesis' theory that her neighbors' Geostigma deaths were just some kind of ironic coincidence. Even if Jenova had touched Amyntas once upon a time, that would have been over two thousand years ago! For Geostigma to surface right here and now, when she was around, and right when she'd foolishly wished for it just felt too calculated. Someone had to have made it happen, and the options for the culprit's identity were rather limited. The only way not blaming anyone specific could make sense was if the virus had evolved into some kind of intelligence on its own, or more likely, had copied from other life forms around it. That was more or less how Jenova worked, wasn't it? Whether physiologically or psychologically, even the smallest cellular components of Jenova's being could mimic whatever they needed to for survival's sake.

Curling up tightly into herself, Tifa had a sudden realization: No matter how small, basic, or disparate, anything that had once been part of Jenova followed one driving force alone- "Reunion...Oh no..."

If Genesis was correct, and Amyntas had indeed suffered an ancient run-in with Jenova, then either the creature herself, or more likely, the man who carried on her legacy, would certainly feel drawn to this planet.

Amyntas was not a place of refuge. Quite possibly, it was a glaring beacon in the darkness of space for Sephiroth to come and ravage. If he harnessed the Jenova plague that apparently still lingered here, this world could fall to him as well. What if his proximity to Amyntas was close enough that it triggered the virus to awaken? The way Neyli and Vaniir had died-It was meant for her to see. If not, they would have died in bed or on their front porch; not on her front doorstep in a neat pile! Tifa was certain of that now, even if the virus was only copying from Sephiroth's past memories and motives of constantly targeting those around her.

Tifa trembled, and buried her face into the arm of the couch, letting it soak up her damp, uneven breaths.

"Tifa, we don't know for sure yet," Cloud gently whispered in the back of her mind. He continued to speak, trying to soothe her, but to no avail. She could hear him, but her mind was too loud to make out the rest of his words.

She settled on doing the only thing she could for now, and wept herself to sleep.

Tifa didn't wake up until late evening, and for the most part, she was relieved to have slept the day away. Night was quiet, and blissfully devoid of small children, teen-aged delinquents, and old ladies; in other words, the typical snoops and shameless point-and-starers. Usually, she didn't take it very personally, but after entombing her neighbors in her old makeshift house and being forced to undergo a nerve-wracking epiphany about how safe this world wasn't, she was happy to do without the normal gawking-fest.

What she did have to cope with right away was waking up to find that Vaniir and Neyli's former pet had curled up on her stomach and drooled generously while they both slept. The translucent goop was thin enough that Tifa was able to flick most of it off with a swipe of her palm, but she'd have to scrub the remaining stickiness.

"Ugh, nice to see you too," Tifa groaned at the still-unidentified creature. "What are you, anyway?"

Tifa wracked her brain, trying to remember the name or word she'd heard Neyli call a few times, to which the animal seemed to respond. Peylo? Palla? Palylio! That was it!

Palylio, for lack of a better way to think of it, looked to her like a toy-maker's disastrous accident with left over plush parts that had somehow come to life. It had a dog-like face, complete with a long snout, but the tubular body of a medium snake. Yet, even Palylio's long torso managed to grow a luxuriously soft, forest green fur coat. How the thing was so agile with a mismatched body like that, Tifa could only guess. She supposed the creature was still sort of cute, in an acquired taste sense of the word.

"At least I already have a pretty good idea of what to feed you, Palylio," Tifa announced with a grimace. She'd probably already tasted some of it for herself. "Never saw you outside with Neyli, so you probably have a litter box or something like that around here…But, let's get some air first."

Distracting her mind from the distress she'd fallen asleep with was fast proving futile. The living room felt like it was contracting; the walls closing in on her with every half-held breath. Hurriedly, Tifa escaped to the kitchen, and scanned the ceiling for the small hatch that Vaniir had installed. He'd claimed that's where he was going to build the stairs when he finished the second story, but he'd never really gotten started on any construction. The small step-ladder that he and Neyli had used to access their roof was still there, though.

Tifa wasted no time in hopping up, and throwing the hatch open. While it would have been quicker simply to use the front door, just going outside wasn't enough. She wanted to be elevated, where she could keep watch for anything and everything, just like the plains birds she'd seen yesterday.

On the roof, she basked in the cool dusk air. The slums' normal rancid odors had settled to a mere undertone by now, so she indulged in a deep breath. Aside from Vaniir and Neyli's suspicious deaths, what did she really have to go on? What did she really know? Jumping at every frightening thought or menacing shadow was getting her nowhere really fast. At best, she'd wind up validating some of the Amyntasis' suspicion that she was mentally ill or deficient after all. She didn't need her cover to be that secure.

The universe was a huge place, Tifa reminded herself. Jenova was outright ancient, having possibly visited and scarred numerous worlds over several millennia. If each one she hadn't ended still possessed some piece of her, how many worlds would Sephiroth have to absorb before he came for Amyntas?

"How long before he comes for me?" Tifa finally let herself ask, because she knew he would. Minerva was within her, so his coming was unavoidable.

Inside, her friends were perfectly still and silent, but Tifa could feel them watching her, waiting to see how completely she'd be able to embrace the grim details of her reality. They'd all been incredibly patient with her. Even Genesis, with his brash and often uncouth ways of stepping in to hog-tie her to her own sanity, had been gentle with her when it came to the full scope of the truth. He'd never let her deny what was right in front of her, but he'd given her some rational ways to side-step dealing with the sum of her circumstances all at once. Although he'd presented it as a reason why Sephiroth probably wasn't directly responsible for Vaniir and Neyli's fatal Geostigma, without Genesis' revelation that Amyntas might have battled Jenova long ago, she would have been a lot less receptive to believing that he was probably en route.

Of course, Cloud had always been there too. He usually appeared when the loneliness of knowing that she was the last human being alive became too oppressive. Or, more appropriately, when having no living friends or family she could safely count on became too depressing. Sometimes, his visits turned counter-productive. Any time she wanted to hold him left Tifa with a stark reminder that although Cloud was alive in the sense of being conscious, his body had long ago perished. He and all of her friends were just ghosts, separate from Minerva as individuals strictly to uphold her morale and stability as the Goddess' vessel.

Why didn't Minerva continue to the Promised Land? Tifa exhaled very slowly, and sat down on the concrete roof before admitting her next thought, "It's not like I can ever enjoy my life again. Not even surviving really seems worth it."

No, she wasn't suicidal; it was more like she was resigned. Tifa felt she still had enough willpower to keep living, but if Minerva decided that today was the day they'd head into the heart of the universe and dissolve into the Promised Land, she was ready. It was the best death she could possibly hope for, and even something of a privilege for someone who was only a shoddy surrogate for Omega, not to mention partially responsible for her world's demise.

"We're still here because the Goddess' work isn't finished yet, Tifa. As long as Sephiroth is still out there, our home isn't safe. If he steals the spirit energy from enough worlds, he can conquer the Promised Land too," Aerith finally explained.

Tifa's mouth dropped slightly. Her initial assumptions about the Goddess' motivations had been completely off base. None of this had ever been about survival. Minerva actually meant to make it her—no, their—mission to protect the source of all life. The Goddess that Sephiroth had so handily defeated came to Amyntas not to hide, but to heal and regroup so she could take him on again! Minerva's world was little more than a memory, but she still intended to fight.

"You've got to be kidding me!" Tifa cried out.

Passing by on the street below, a stumbling drunkard mocked her sudden outburst in a slurred falsetto, "'You'ff got to be kidding me!' Ha ha! Nope, not kidding at all, ya dumb bitch, an' I got two more bottles here to prove it…hic!"

Tifa rolled her eyes and groaned. Yet another universal truth was that no matter the planet or species, lone male drunkards down on their luck were frequently misogynistic attention whores. Thus, the man below was naturally very protective of his booze. Ironically, his announcement that he had two could just as easily be a harsh offer. Right now, Tifa wasn't entirely opposed to the idea of a strong drink to take the edge off.

"Oh yeah? Why don't you throw one up here? I could use some convincing!" she hollered back.

The lush howled at her absurd suggestion, and made a lewd gesture, bending and flexing the fourth joint of his index finger—the Amyntasi equivalent of flipping someone off.

"Yeah, no thanks," Tifa recoiled, and the man continued onward in his stumbling path, still cackling.

Just as he regained enough of his bearings to walk in something resembling a straight line, gunfire ricocheted off the building two doors down the road, jolting him into a sprint that failed miserably after four or five yards. Face planted on the sidewalk, the drunk's two bottles rolled out of his pants. One of them burst, spilling out into the street, unleashing a slew of expletives from its former owner.

"Heheh! Looks like he only got one, Teef!"

At the sound of that voice, Tifa's intoxicated visitor quickly faded into the background of her awareness. Looking up from the pathetic sight, she saw that everything else matched. His bulky build, his dark and grizzled face, his signature gun arm—there was no mistaking who had just appeared across the street. She knew she shouldn't accept him without question. There were too many reasons why he shouldn't be there, but she'd been essentially alone for over a year.

"Barret!"

Vaulting over the edge of the roof, Tifa barely managed to keep her footing when she landed. But that didn't stop her from running to meet Barret, and tackling him in a merciless bear hug.

After an awkward split second, he reciprocated, tossing his good arm around her shoulders. "Musta been a long time," he chuckled.

"You could say that," Tifa carefully affirmed, stepping back. She would have to bring it up eventually, but there was just no right way to ask, 'Why aren't you dead like I thought?' For now, she settled on, "Why don't you come inside? I was just about to make dinner, and we a have a lot of catching up to do," instead.

For as unkempt some parts of their house were, Tifa was relieved to find nothing with legs or antennae while she rummaged through Neyli and Vaniir's kitchen. Without any nasty surprises, it was much easier to pretend she was simply looking for ingredients and making decisions. In reality, she didn't have the foggiest clue where everything was, if they even had what she needed, and if enough of it was edible for her to prepare. Letting Barret in on the complexity of her situation right away felt too risky. She needed to figure out what was up with him first.

How had he made it all the way here, to Amyntas? How had he even known where to go? Why hadn't his Geostigma killed him and forced him to join with Sephiroth's Lifestream like it had done to everyone else?

Tifa inspected Barret through the corner of her eye. The spot on his arm that should have been infected, gangrenous, and melting was now perfectly clean. While much of his spontaneity and vigor remained, some of the basic idiosyncrasies of his personality and the person she once knew only appeared as if by prompt. When the passing drunk had insulted her, he was quick to jump to her assistance, much like he used to back in her first Seventh Heaven bar in Midgar, before he understood she was a fighter as well. But now that he'd found a comfortable seat at the kitchen table, he was quiet. The Barret she knew always had something to say, even if only in the form of cranky grumbling or sleep-talking the whole house could hear. Tifa fondly recalled how they had to postpone one or two AVALANCHE scouting operations because of it. No one ever slept too well when Barret was on edge.

Yet, the man behind her had nothing to share, even after a full year apart. He was completely content with blankly staring at his reflection in the metal surface of his gun arm. His entire personality just seemed off.

Pursing her lips, Tifa returned to the task before her. It wasn't like she hadn't seen this kind of thing before. Years ago, when she'd first run into Cloud at the train station in Midgar, he was the same—only able to act like his real self or something passing for it when someone prompted or reminded him. And of course, that was all Jenova's doing; something which Sephiroth used to exploit Cloud. It wasn't all bad news, though. Maybe, just maybe, Barret's Geostigma had run its course, and his head was still a bit scrambled from the recovery process? If anyone was strong and stubborn enough to pull off an unaided, one-man fight with the same sickness that ruined Gaia, Barret would have to be that person.

What was it he used to say? 'There ain't no gettin' offa this train we on!'

"Sounds about right to me! That son of bitch wouldn't go out without firing everything he had on him," Cid agreed.

"It would still be wise to exercise caution, Tifa. Even if Barret is himself, Sephiroth might be able to manipulate him," Nanaki warned.

Tifa pulled two cans of fruit from the cupboard, silently replying, "With Cloud, I had no idea what was going on or what to expect. It's not like that now. I'll keep an eye on Barret, too. Maybe I can still help him."

Although Cloud had nothing to add, Tifa could feel his discomfort. Whether Barret was dead, alive, or somewhere in between didn't matter to him. The prospect of watching an old friend crack the same way he had couldn't be anything but unsettling. Cloud's restrained disapproval prickled along the back of her neck like pins; to him, it was even worse that she'd chosen to take the same level of responsibility for Barret as she had for him. If she could truly read his mind, Tifa was almost positive she'd find a knotted heap of questions about how knowing most of what was going on was supposed to help when she had no practical solutions to the problem.

True, her resolve had lifted somewhat when Barret appeared, but Tifa couldn't help but share some of Cloud's concern. She was only making the same choice to watch over Barret because he was a friend; anything less was unconscionable. Even knowing or suspecting what she did about his mental malfunction, the best she could really do was to play it all by ear.

Maybe it would help to be a little more investigative this time? She'd too often caved into fear where Cloud was concerned. But sadly, she didn't have nearly as much—if anything—to lose this time. Being afraid of what she'd find would be nothing but a waste of time. Steeling her nerves, Tifa decided that now was the best time to broach the topic with Barret. Her situation was already too precarious without waiting to figure out what parts of Barret were broken or missing.

"Sorry I'm taking so long, Barret. I just got moved in, so nothing's where it should be. This used to be so much easier with Marlene around. She was a great help…I really miss her," she apologized, faltering slightly when she forced herself to bring up Marlene.

Barret lifted his head, stretching his arms and yawning, "No problem, Tifa. Your cooking's always been worth waiting. Marlene a good friend of yours?"

Tifa grimaced and bit back on a stinging urge to burst into tears right then and there, swallowing the lump in her throat. Staying casual was killing her already! Of all the people and places he could have forgotten, she'd never have guessed that Marlene would be one of them. She was such a pivotal, significant part of who Barret was! She was his drive for anything and everything he ever did. At times, she'd been his reason to keep living at all—the reason why he didn't wind up like his old friend, Dyne.

"Yeah, we were really close. She was a lot younger than me, but she made a wonderful little sister. People mistook her for my daughter, but she never corrected them…Actually, she was the adopted daughter of another very good friend. I'm surprised that you don't remember her," Tifa managed, pushing herself to turn around and look Barret in the eye. "She was around all the time."

"Kinda funny I don't, but we was up against ShinRa back then. They was some crazy times, Tifa," Barret excused.

She nodded, and paused to focus on selecting a few spices to throw in with the fruit she'd opened. Dinner was going to be very, very light, but having just occupied the place, a makeshift spicy fruit salad would pass. "I remember that, too," Tifa agreed. "We always had to be sure we knew what we were fighting for. We never knew when ShinRa might catch us, or when the casualties would feel like too many. I struggled with that for a long time, once the Planet was safe. From them, anyway…"

When she set Barret's bowl in front of him, he was staring into space, so deeply lost in thought, like there was something he just couldn't piece together, but the key to it was just barely out of his reach. He squinted his eyes, and a soft, perturbed groan rumbled in his throat.

"Barret?" Tifa tried, but he only shook his head slightly, trapped in his stupor.

Cautiously, she sat down adjacent to him, and took a bite of her meal. The fruit tasted somewhat like the can it had come from, but it was definitely better than pet food or garbage. Tifa picked at it slowly, hoping Barret would come to and say something.

After several long, dragged-out minutes, Barret finally shook off his trance and dug into his dinner. He ate ravenously, as if it was the first thing he'd tasted in ages. When done with shoveling the chunks into his mouth, he picked up the bowl and slurped up every drop of juice left. Then, at last, wiping his mouth clean with his good hand, he grumbled, "I ain't supposed to be here, am I?"

Tifa loosely hugged herself, casting her eyes down to stare at her knees. "I don't know, Barret. What happened to you?"

"Heh…Seems like I remember dying. And then there was a long time, jes' waiting and forgetting about life. Kinda like bein' in a prison or hospital. Real boring. Nothin' to do but wait until you're told what to do," Barret revealed.

"Tifa, be on your guard," Genesis abruptly cut in.

"Seems like?" Tifa asked, her stomach instantly dropping with Genesis' warning.

"Yeah, I was real weak, all covered in some kinda black shit. Then, there was the waiting…Can't say how I got here, though." Slowly, Barret lifted his head. "This—this ain't me. Can't be…I ain't me, Tifa!"

Suddenly, Barret jumped to his feet, staring with bewilderment at his gun arm. His nostrils flared as he began to hyperventilate, and his eyes wildly flickered back and forth between his weapon and her until finally, he took aim.

"Barret," Tifa numbly pronounced, rising and backing away from the table, "I know none of this makes sense. I'm kind of lost, too. Why don't we just talk a little more? We can try to figure it out together, right?"

"Sorry Teef. Just doin' what I gotta do," he panted, and popped off a few sloppily aimed shots. "I gotta do what I been told to do, cause you got the last ones…"

Throwing herself to the floor to avoid Barret's attack, Tifa heard the bullets penetrate the cupboards behind her, shattering the dishes inside. Before her, Barret hefted the table up with his good arm and tossed it aside, depriving her of its meager cover. The only way she was going to make it out of this alive was if she could at least disarm him before he had the chance to shoot again.

But then, awkwardly, Barret stomped toward her, raising and lowering his gun. Confusion and frustration played across his face, and Tifa wondered if, among so many other things, he'd also forgotten how to control his prosthesis. Pointing it at her wasn't a problem, but how to make it fire when he wanted it to was completely lost on him.

She chose that instant to jump. Her right arm quickly made contact with Barret's thick neck, hooking around it, and she used her full weight to send him tumbling to the floor. As he fell, Tifa moved out of his path just in time to see that there wasn't enough room. The back of his head smacked against the stone wall, resounding with a sickening crunch upon impact, knocking him out cold.

Fresh, dark blood had splattered and was already dribbling down the wall, forming a pool below his head in a gory halo. Tifa covered her mouth and willed herself not to react until she got a closer look. Kneeling down beside him, she carefully lifted his head. Fluid still rushed out of the back of his skull as though someone was pouring it from a bucket. The substance was not blood at all, but the tell-tale black pus of Geostigma. Looking over her shoulder when she heard something rustle, Tifa saw that his whole body was slowly melting away into the dark, infectious sludge.

"He was just broken memories, being used," Aerith murmured.

"Like a Jenova copy, but not," Zack added his rough assessment.

Tifa shook off her friends' voices. Memories? Copies? What was any of that really supposed to mean? There was no making sense of this! Why did he act like he had to kill her, and what did he mean when he said she had the last ones? The last ones of what?

Before she could overwhelm herself with questions, the front door crashed open, and four black-clad Cluster police men filed in. Tifa stood at attention, and started to plead for their help, but it was no use. One of them restrained her arms, while another wasted no time taking samples from Barret's body. The other two picked through the house, recording notes into electronic devices on their wrists. Frightened, Palylio slithered out of his hiding place in search for a better one, but one of the officers quickly collected the animal.

Too much. She'd made too much noise, acted too suspiciously, and too many people were dying around her. Even here in the slums, it all eventually had to get a little too creepy for the neighbors to stomach. Barret's gunfire had probably been the last straw for someone to make the call, along with the sudden, overnight destruction of her shanty house. Genesis had been right. People had noticed her, and not for the better.

The officer behind her gave her a light shove, and she cooperatively marched toward the door. Upon exiting, Tifa gawked at the sheer number of Cluster authorities waiting outside. They acted like they'd been expecting some very serious resistance from her, and it wasn't immediately obvious why.

But then, casting side-long glance at her old home, she saw what had earned her so much commotion: The same black ichor that Barret had bled was bubbling up from the ground around a now-dismantled scrap pile. They'd discovered Vaniir and Neyli.