Part 4- A Cry in the Darkness

Chapter 14- Willful Assassin

With a sickened feeling, he realized that the feather remained laying 'harmlessly' on the desk, black as night, its lavender rachis seeming to glare at him, as sinister as Jenova herself. It resonated quietly with each breath that the girl drew, a tiny glimmering pulse that sustained her, feeding her with its evil devices. With each individual shimmer of its quills, a tiny bit of color drained from the feather and crumbled to dust, accumulating on the table like the ashes of a cigarette. The evil was beginning to flow through her veins, the battle between the Ancient's and human's blood only starting. Vincent noted gravely that the feather was only a quarter disintegrated... and with a sigh of regret, he drew his gun from its holster. Loading it slowly, he knew what he would have to do... no matter what the price. He thumbed the safety for the first time in years, checking the long barrel with his sharp eyes. It was as he cocked the gun and snapped it back that he hesitated, mentally struggling with his task as he brought the rifle to his eyes to aim... one clean shot was all he needed. His hands began to tremble as they did the first time he shot a gun during Shinra training half a century previous, his nerve lost and distraught. Naturally, his mind steadied and relaxed, for he was a cold-blooded killer... trained to be so by the company, and taught so by his shattered life.

The sight of the weapon rested gently over her breast as it rose and fell rhythmically, her breath rasping in her lungs... it had to be ended... now! The click of the safety trigger, which he had fastened to his gun to stop himself from committing further acts of violence at the end of their long journeys, was a little too noisy for his liking...

But it had to be ended... now!

The click of the metal caused Cloud's eyes to snap open with amazing suddenness, and he took in the scene with frenzied adrenaline-induced reflexes, not even knowing anything but the danger of his daughter's life.

He hurled his entire being furiously at Vincent's legs, tackling him roughly to the floor with amazing speed and strength.

Time seemed to freeze as Vincent fired the shot from his gun, aimed with deadly accuracy at her heart...

The pigeons that were resting their fatigued wings on the windowsill flew off startled, as the gunshot sounded and the bullet whistled through the window and into the calm morning air.

Silence followed for seemingly an eternity, a cruel and looming absence of sound as Cloud lay, panting with exhaustion, perched on top of the surprised Vincent. The man snapped out of his sleep-induced trance as the events hit home, and an expression of pure rage and hatred flooded Cloud's face.

"BASTARD!" he screamed, pummeling Vincent's face with his free hand as he pinned him to the floor. Vincent winced as he took the blows, but said nothing, struggling under the fiery hail of punches. Tifa rushed into the room, concerned by the gunshot and the screams that emerged.

"Cloud! What the hell are you doing?! Get off of him! NOW!" She screamed in a commanding voice, frantically trying to pry Cloud's arms off of where they were placed around Vincent's neck. When she managed to restrain her boyfriend and pull him off the pale man, his lip was cut and bleeding, swollen from the impact of the powerful fists. He wiped his crimson sleeve across his face with a cold glare, the blood leaving no trace across the cloth. Cloud calmed in Tifa's grasp, chest heaving angrily as his eyes burned with cold fury...

"Why did you do it, bastard?! Why? WHY, DAMMIT!!!" Cloud managed to struggle free from Tifa's hold, grabbing Vincent by the collar and slamming him into the wall forcefully. Vincent winced slightly, but remained silent.

"CLOUD! Put him DOWN!" Tifa screamed. The cry triggering the remaining senses in his mind, and with a deep sob he released Vincent and collapsed to the floor, holding his head in his hands as he body shook with his tears.

"Vincent... why? I trusted you..." Cloud shook his head in broken anger, burying his face into his knees as he cried like a punished child.

Vincent sighed as he clambered to his feet, dusting his long cloak off with his left hand. "I'm sorry Cloud. But can't you see what's happening? Are you blind to the evil...?"

Cloud glared up only to spit with pure contempt at the man's boots. "I don't know what the hell you're talking about," he hissed in an offended tone.

Vincent rolled his eyes and bent to recover his discarded weapon, which lay on the floor a few feet away. With a grim smile, he polished the barrel with his sleeve as he inspected its length, and deeming it okay, placed it back in his belt at his side. He turned to face his tearstained friend, and with an immense and sudden amount of fury, he slammed his fist down on the nightstand, sending the dust flying.

"That's what the hell I'm talking about, Cloud! Look at her, dammit!! She's virtually the living dead! You may think you've done the best thing for her, but look at this... just look!" Angrily, he shoved the remainder of the feather in a shocked Cloud's face, waving it in front of his dazed eyes. Grabbing him by the collar, he shoved Cloud up against Sephirah's bed before Tifa could protest. "Now listen!!" he hissed.

Cloud's shaking head was positioned over that of his unconscious daughter's as she lay, smiling in her sleep. "Oh Sephiroth..." she muttered, "Why can't we be together...?"

Cloud's eyes widened in shock, then squeezed tightly shut in denial. Crimson flushes filled his face, burned in his eyes... He backed away slowly as Vincent released him, shaking his head.

"No... it can't be... Not again!! He takes my wife with his sword, and now he wants to take my daughter too?!" His whisper grew to an infuriated scream as he drew his sword from his back, swinging it wildly at the wall, fueled so much by his anger that he couldn't stop himself. His sword hacked away, sparks flying as he screamed the name to the ends of the world:

"SEPHIROOOOOTH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" Cloud hurled his sword furiously at the wall as he screamed the name, watching as it clattered harmlessly off the bricks with the sharp ping of metal against stone. Cloud slumped helplessly to the floor, dejected. "Dammit all, why can't the past just... die?" he blurted out.

Tifa stepped forward, placing her hand on his shoulder as her eyes began to mist with hot fresh tears.

Why won't he leave me to live my life in peace...?" he whispered, pleading an answer from her gentle face.

Tifa leaned down towards him, encircling him with protecting arms, transferring her concern silently through her touch. She kissed his cheek with soft lush lips to reassure him, brushing them passionately against his skin. He sighed as he turned to her, shaking his head.

"I did what I could... but it wasn't enough. I ran my sword through that man 18 years ago..." he leaned his head back against the wall, swallowing painfully. "And now... what can I do? The bastard's not only after me now; now he wants my family too!" his fists clenched furiously until his knuckles were as white as bleach. "All I ever wanted was to lead a normal life, for my daughter to be happy, and to provide for her only the best. And now... now..." he began to trail off.

"Damn!! I feel so helpless!" he slammed his fist against the wall, impervious to the crippling pain that lanced across his arm from the impact. As he shook with fury, Tifa took his hand in hers, soothing the reddened knuckles with gentle fingers. Tears splashed down upon his skin, cooling the swelling flesh, causing Cloud to look up upon the woman with wonder. His tear filled cerulean eyes met her fawn brown ones, pleading... He threw his arms around her forcefully, resting his head against her bosom as he sobbed.

"Oh Cloud," she sighed, "I don't know what to say about it all!" She leaned her chin against his hair, stroking it with her free hand. "But... Vincent's right. This can't go on... Maybe we can stop it...?"

"But if it kills her..." Cloud started.

Vincent interrupted impatiently. "The more you talk, the less time we have. Death is better than what she faces in life if that feather succeeds, Cloud! Trust me..." He turned away for a moment, reflecting on his life. "She'll be... just like me," he murmured. "And Cloud... you can't imagine how very horrible it is to be yanked so forcefully from the peace of death. Just trust me... anything at all, including death is far better than being the slave of evil," he finished.

Reflecting on his words, Cloud seemed deeply consumed by his thoughts, bowing his head and then looking up at his friend, the fierce light of determination in his eyes.

"I'm sorry, Vince. You were right. And if this is what I must do-" he picked up the feather between two fingers, a disgusted look crossing his face. "-Then... then I'll do it!" he bowed his head reverently to his daughter for forgiveness. He marched out of the room, slamming his weight into the door, throwing it wildly open. The feather continued to trail black dust behind them as they followed him out the door...


Chapter 15- What must be done

Cloud strode through the meticulously sterile halls of the hospital as Tifa and Vincent trailed behind, crying at him to wait for them to catch up. It wasn't until they emerged into the midday sunlight that Cloud halted in his tracks without warning, causing Tifa and Vincent to crash roughly into him from behind. Cloud glared impatiently at them, a psychotic blaze burning furiously in his eyes.

"Give me your materia," he ordered Tifa flatly, extending his gloved palm with a commanding gesture. Reluctant and wide-eyed in fear, Tifa hesitated to surrender the magical orbs, but convinced herself to trust him as she always had. Removing the velvet pouch from where it hung suspended from her neck, she pulled it past her long hair and dropped it into his waiting grasp. His hand snapped shut as soon as it felt the contact of the bag, then with his free hand, he searched desperately through the various materia. He fingered the orbs with a glimmer of a smile, drawing his hand from the pouch with his fist clenched. He opened it, revealing to his friends three small spheres, each glinting with the shade of the Lifestream to the sunlight. Inspecting the three objects carefully with his beautiful blue eyes, he handed one promptly to Tifa and another to Vincent.

"Use these on my signal," was all he said to them. Tifa nodded cautiously, afraid to move a muscle for fear of the man's reaction. Cloud stepped forward to a flat rock by a pile of rusted metal debris and laid the evil feather on it, setting a second smaller stone on top of the quill to prevent it from flying away with the breeze.

Tifa gazed distantly at the materia she was holding, focusing on the patterns in the deep green to identify the type. "Fire...?" she whispered to Vincent. He nodded in agreement as he showed his own to be the same, shooting her a wordless glance that told her not to question. Without a moment's more hesitation, she jammed the single materia into the empty slots on her glove, praying she could still remember how to use its magic. She held her breath as she waited fearfully for Cloud to give his "signal."

In Cloud's palm lay the final piece of magic materia; one that looked slightly different from the rest. "Master Magic," Tifa thought as she recognized the creamy emerald shine. He grabbed the buster sword from where it rested on his back, brandishing it in front of him as he slid the powerful materia into the slot of the weapon. He glanced casually back at Vincent and Tifa to make sure they were ready, so they nodded uncertainly back. His face was calm but grimly set as the words were whispered from his lips.

"Fire 3!" The steel sword was slung hastily across his shoulder with a fluid and familiar ripple of his aging muscles. With his hands cupped in front of him and his legs spread wide in the dirt for support, he bowed his head as a single tear dripped forth down his cheek. "I-I'm sorry, Aerith... Sephirah..."

The sphere of heat grew steadily, licking his gloves with its flaming tongue as it consumed the morning air greedily. Without warning, the flames leapt wickedly from his grasp, engulfing the feather in its entirety. The tear splashed with a quiet hiss onto the heated pavement as Cloud turned miserably away, unable to watch.

"Goodbye," Tifa thought she heard him whisper. Shaking herself into reality, her head snapped up. "Fire 3!" she chanted simultaneously with Vincent over the din of the blaze. Vincent's scarlet eyes reflected the savage fire as the balls began to form in his grasp as well as Tifa's own.

Soon the entire rubble pile was afire, the flames leaping high into the air, wicked and uncontrolled as it consumed its victim, the seemingly helpless feather that lay unmoving on the stones.

***

Wild and frantic screams began to ring through the halls of the hospital, the frenzied death throes of a wild animal. The nurse for the hall rushed into the once silent room where the young woman lay in time to witness the frightful violent seizures that flew in spasms through her brain. Grabbing restraining straps in her fearful shaking hands, she screamed for help from the other nurses positioned in the ward, who were just checking on other patients down the hall. At the sound of the clamor, they dropped what they were doing and sped towards their desperate friend.

***

The flames soon subsided, the black dust of the charred rock barely revealing the skeleton remains of the Dark Phoenix feather to the surprise of the group. It wasn't finished yet... it would fight to the end.

An angered Cloud's fists clenched in violent fury, the tendons of his knuckles as white as bleach as his arm flew to one side, barring the forward approach of his comrades.

"No," he said simply to them, shaking his head. His eyes were squeezed shut as a tear began to work its way down his cheek.

"Freeze," he blurted unsteadily, lifting his hands to focus the spell. A ball of misty blue shot from the master magic to his hands, growing and shrinking as it reflected light. Cloud's eyes snapped open suddenly as the aura of cold shot from his grasp onto the rock, freezing the feather in its icy prison.

"I'm sorry, my Sephirah... Please forgive me," Tifa could barely hear his whisper over the distinct crackling of the newly formed ice. A grin covered Cloud's tired face, masking the remorse and agony he was experiencing. Suddenly, the expression began to twist itself, distorting the false image of optimism into an obvious show of pure unrelenting pain. He lifted his hands a final time, averting his eyes as his mouth uttered the chant in a strong and powerful voice.

"FLARE!!"

The word seemed to echo around their heads... By far it was the most powerful of the fire spells. "Is that really what is needed to vanquish the evil creature?" Vincent thought.

Time seemed to cease as the world went completely and utterly silent...

Then the eruption came. It was small at first; the tiny flame was nothing more than the most insignificant electric spark glowering cheerily at the center of the icy prison. Then, with amazing subtlety it expanded ruthlessly, swelling to millions of times its original size in a matter of seconds, forcing the flames outward from the core. Tifa turned herself away from the sight, using her arms in an attempt to shield her eyes from the piercing light and raging temperatures. Vincent squinted but did not move at all, his jaw grimly as he watched the pulsating flare fill his vision, the wild winds of destruction screeching crazily past each of their ears. Cloud flinched at the strength of the spell but held firm against the almighty power in his determination to see the destruction of the evil device through to the end. The light and shadows danced wildly in his lustrous eyes as he observed the spell calmly.

Soon the enchantment began to subside and the giant mound of ice burst with the incredible outward pressure, sending thin shards of the still solid water flying into their faces, grazing their exposed skin like the edges of razor blades. Tifa gasped sharply as a sliver cut into her cheek and her hands flew up instinctively to staunch the flow of blood. She studied the crimson fluid that dripped down her fingers. "Only a minor cut and a few bruises... not much damage here," she sighed in relief. She glanced over at Vincent in concern and was relieved to find her friend unharmed, brushing the icicles coolly from the long thick cape he used wisely as a shield. Her heart relaxed its rapid throbbing as she held her breath to calm herself. "All is going to be okay," she repeated to herself for the millionth time, "It's going to be ok." It was then that she thought of Cloud in a panic, sending more blood rushing madly through her brain as she glanced around in concern for her lover. With a deep sigh of relief, she found him standing in one piece as she plopped down weakly on the floor. "I'm getting a little too old for this," she thought with a fond smile of the olden days of glory and adventure.

Cloud stood completely untouched by the blast, his hands still upraised in casting position as his chest heaved heavily with each drawn breath. His shoulders rose and fell rhythmically, but his head was hung in sorrow and guilt, his chin resting on his chest. Tifa watched the tears splash silently onto the charred pavement, a small wisp of steam hissing up from the hot cement. She and Vincent looked up to where the feather lay...

Nothing remained but a heap of horribly maimed metal and charcoal. The feather was gone.

Tifa took a tentative step towards Cloud, then threw a protective arm around his waist passionately. Cloud instinctively placed his arm her back, drawing her closer to him as she pulled him away from the sight.

"Let's go Cloud," was all she simply said.


Chapter 16- Beast of Darkness

The horrified screams of the girl ceased without warning, almost as if whatever was torturing her had suddenly disappeared, relieving the pan and stress on her body. She fell into a quiet stupor, semi-conscious yet still unaware of her surroundings. The nurses, ignorant of her consciousness, spoke in hushed whispers, exhausted after the efforts to applying tranquilizers to calm the frenzy. Convinced that their work was temporarily complete, they sighed and took a break in the chairs, the five women lounging lazily in the thickly padded armchair and benches hat lined the wall. One, a petite brunette in her twenties who had only recently graduated from Medical School, groaned and rubbed her bruised arm ruefully with her latex covered hand.

"Whoever thought an unconscious person could be so violent?! They most certainly didn't prepare us for this in classes..." she whined to her friend, a rather stout middle-aged woman in a primly pressed white dress.

"Well, dearie, after such a miraculous recovery," she emphasized miraculous haughtily with her tongue, "Who would've thought she'd take such a turn for the worse? There's a lot of things you can't find in the book," she sniffed.

Another slightly younger woman leaned forward, reprimanding her sharply. "Now Nancy, don't be proud! You were as surprised as any of us. Don't forget, Jean's only a cadet and still needs a little training. She wasn't here at the time of the Shinra wars... I was enlisted early to serve for the company," she teased, then stopped her incessant chatter and shivered nervously. "It's almost as if someone's watching us... she whispered in confidence to the rest of her friends. "I-I don't know..."

The head nurse, an aging woman with an enormous amount of experience but an unimaginative mind spoke forth then, accompanied by a nod of approval from the woman who had remained silent thus far. "Don't be silly, Sarah! You and your so called 'premonitions...'" she commented curtly. "But I agree. I don't like this situation.... Only an hour ago, this girl was healthy and ready for discharge. But just now... we barely managed to keep the life in 'er!" she paused for a moment to reflect. "Doesn't that seem odd to you too?" Her co-workers nodded wearily, staring fearfully at the pale young woman who laid sweating feverishly on the bed with an expression of pure agony etched across the delicate features of her face. The head nurse shrugged it off, denying her nagging suspicions and trying to change the subject.

"Hey Judy," she referred to the quiet woman, "Remember that time when the great Sephiroth was here? I got to wrap the bandages personally out on the field... he had a big scar on his left calf from when those Wutaians attacked our forces and he got that piece of shrapnel stuck in his leg... " They shivered together at the memory. "He was so brave though... he didn't even grimace when we pulled that monster, then just nodded at me and scrambled to his feet. He just picked up that long toothpick and went on, spearing those savages..." she added bitterly.

Judy spoke up in reply. "Oh, yeah, I remember! He was SO handsome... I couldn't help but daydream... Think of what it'd be like to take the Great Sephiroth home for dinner back in Kalm! That'd show John... I could see the look on his face the day he'd return from the war and see him there, at our table. Maybe then he'd actually want to plan the wedding instead of leaving me hanging..." a mischievous smile played sorrowfully over her features. "But on that hand... I'd give up the Great Sephiroth himself just to have John back... I never thought that anything would happen to him," she sighed as a tear glimmered over her dull eyes. Jean patted her back sympathetically.

"I'm so sorry to hear that, Judy. But the only time I've ever seen Sephiroth were those pictures in the history textbooks. He was so hot..." she giggled and sighed. "I wish I could meet him... just once, like you. What if... What if he came back alive?" she suggested dazedly.

"Silly, the man is DEAD!" Nancy snorted. "But on that hand... if he COULD... I'd be first in line for a date!" she blew a sloppy kiss towards the open window as the girls burst into laughter.

"As if he'd ever chose you, Nancy!" Sarah giggled mercilessly, poking her rotund stomach with her clipboard pen. "No, he'd chose me instead!" she added with a grin as she rose from her chair, flipping her blonde curls provokingly over her shoulder and batting her eyelashes foolishly. Bursts of teasing protests followed as the girls filed out of the doorway and back to their posts with light-hearts, the previous spastic episodes of Sephirah forgotten.

Sephirah's mind began to come to consciousness at the numerous mentions of the name. "Sephiroth..." she whispered as she stared at the monotone of the blank whitewashed ceiling.

***

"Poor Yuffie... look what it did to her," Tifa sighed in remorse as they passed their companion's critical care unit on their journey back to Sephirah's room.

"It's... my fault..." Cloud muttered angrily through his teeth. "I shouldn't have tried the feather... I-I should've kept control..." his outstretched hands met the glass as he leaned against it, drawing him towards it with the tension of a biological spring as he slammed his forehead against the divider in frustration. Tiny beads of fresh sweat lined his pale face and his eyes clenched in fury. "It only made things worse! And I hurt someone who wasn't even involved..." he cursed at his own stupidity as he watched the gentle rise and fall of his unconscious friend's chest. She was curled into an infantile position, her arms wrapped securely around her chest in an effort to heal the burning cold that flooded her veins, shaking her violently with fear and pain. The still youthful ninja lay quaking on the hospital bed, restraints bonding her limbs and neck tightly, quiet sobs still evident to her friends' ears.

Tifa sighed in impatience and frustration, a lack of sleep greatly affecting her temper and mood. "Look Cloud, for the last time, it's not your fault! As a father, you tried your hardest to preserve the life of your child... like any responsible parent. I doubt that any loving father would've tried less to see his daughter live a long and happy life. I know it must not be easy to have to watch Sephirah die, and it was difficult for me too, but the least we can do is try to offer help for Yuffie. We ought to call Tanaka-san and get him over here. She'll need him the most if she's going to recover..." as she finished, her voice began to soften from the helpless look cast at her by her lover. With a rush of sadness building in her heart, she leaned up to plant a light but weather-chapped kiss on Cloud's cheek. "I'm sorry, my dear, but look," she gestured with a nod to Yuffie. "She isn't angry with you... Doesn't she look so peaceful now?" Cloud glanced over, following Tifa's finger as he gazed through the glass. Her face, though fearful, had a strangely blissful look that completely baffled Cloud.

"What a dream that must be..." murmured Tifa, "Yet the side-effects of the attack are disappearing. She'll be okay, darling... trust me." Tifa leaned her head against Cloud's shoulder, and absently, he wrapped it around her shoulders, accepting the comfort that she offered him through her embrace.

"Cloud..." she whispered, leaning up to his ear, "Let's go," she insisted, tugging his loose jacket-sleeve gently between slender fingers. Shaken out of his trance, he swallowed nervously and nodded as she lead his stumbling figure though the long hospital corridors. Tifa didn't even glance back at him as she walked, fearing the ultimate result of their efforts to destroy the poisoned feather as they rounded corners and eventually arrived at the entrance of Room 46.

Cloud's heart leapt silently into his throat as he noticed the grave face of the hallway nurse framed by the light streaming from the glass window of the closed door. He opened his mouth to ask but choked over his words, his flooding emotions... The nurse understood, and bending over the clipboard she held, began to relay her information.

"Excuse me, sir? Cloud Strife, I presume," she addressed Cloud. It took him a minute to register the voice in his head; as if it was coming from a great distance he needed to strain his ears to understand. He nodded at her in acknowledgement, trying to brace himself for what he felt was the inevitable. "I'm dreadfully sorry, but your daughter..." the tears already began to build in his eyes as her voice fell upon his empty ears, "...took a turn for the worse this morning... extensive care... be okay." Cloud only heard part of her speech in his disbelief, able to see the motions of her mouth but not distinguish the words from her lips from the thoughts flooding his mind and heart.

"W-What was that...?" Cloud whispered eagerly, a light shining luminously in his lustrous eyes as he flashed a rare smile that Tifa hadn't seen for a long time... a grin filled with pure unbridled joy.

Composure broken by her surprise, young Jean began to stammer. "I-I said..." she didn't even get to finish her first sentence before Cloud pushed frantically past her and to the doorway, throwing open the door violently and emerging into the pristine strip of sunlight that projected from the drawn back curtains. He stood, rooted to the spot in shock, feeling the light zephyr wash peacefully over his face as he gaped in confusion.

The bed was lonely and empty, the messily crinkled sheets showing signs of recent inhabitance. The gaunt linen curtains rustled gently in the fresh summer breeze, the sash of the window thrown carelessly up... she was gone!


Chapter 17- The Black Materia

It was only a few minutes previous that Sephirah had suddenly felt the urge to rise to her feet. Her beaten body began to rise on its own without either conscious will power or instinctive worry. It was as if it something was controlling her, moving her languid limbs with some strange force. She could hardly feel the bare skin of her feet graze the cold tile as she sat up in bed, brushing away the stiff hospital sheets with a slow sweep of her hand. She felt no pain as she rose unsteadily to her feet, feeling her legs sway weakly underneath her weight. She grasped the wall to prevent herself from collapsing, trying to draw deeps breaths with quick pants from her lungs. Trying to lay back down in exhaustion, she found that her body would not obey; instead, her feet seemed to push her along the wall, farther from the safety of her bed with each step. Her trembling hands slid slowly across the smooth walls, reassuring her that she had the support of the plaster to prevent her from falling to the floor.

It almost seemed to her like someone was inside of her, controlling her every action with precise judgement. She felt as if she were watching her own movements through a video camera, only a surveillance device to her own body. Yet she could not act against the force or squeeze a cry for help from her lungs. They expanded and contracted automatically, as if pumped from a machine in perfect synchronization with her throbbing heart. She was helpless to do anything but go along with its overwhelming rhythm as an urge for fresh air washed over her like a massive tidal wave. She began to choke and gasp wildly not just from her resistance efforts, but from the seemingly suffocating heat that plagued her with each drawn breath. She staggered to the window and threw back the curtains with a single swipe of her trembling arm. Sunlight streamed over her face, bathing her in the fresh dawn. She closed her eyes and smiled, feeling relief wash over her skin and face. Without hesitation, she threw up the window sash and peered out below with great curiosity. She gulped the cool air greedily, feeling the light breezes caress her face, tossing the long silver locks that fell forward into her face. She shivered with the cold, her mind realizing that she was clad in only a gaunt hospital gown, the cloth scratchy and thin against her bare skin. Her eyes darted quickly around the room.

"Why am I in such a hurry...?" she thought as she made efforts to slow herself down to no avail. She dashed to the nightstand where a blue bundle was laid in neat folds on the table. Her fingers fumbled to grasp it, quickly shedding the gown and slipping layers of clothes on over her head. She tossed her silver hair over her shoulder, feeling it spill down her back like layers of silk. The borrowed blue dress was mostly intact, the garment cleaned and bleached of the bloodstains that once marred it. A nurse had been nice enough to repair some torn threads, patching the cloth almost unnoticeably on the back where a thorn had caught and torn it. It seemed almost as good as new, she noticed as she pulled it over her head, straightening and smoothing the fabric with a delicate hand. She fastened the Masamune to her waist by its thin leather belt, finally feeling complete.

With a sudden surge of adrenaline, she dashed towards the open window and threw herself carelessly from it. Sephirah's mind gave a scream of horror and protest, but no sound emitted from her mouth. She felt her feet make contact like a tensed spring against the rough gutter edge, her hands grasping the wall skillfully. She edged slowly against the smooth stones, her fingers grazing the mortar sensitively and feeling through the cracks to guide her. She wasn't more than a few feet from her window when she heard her door being thrown open. Footsteps pounded into the room... then stopped, obviously in shock and confusion. Then a voice came from the window, a scream that tore Sephirah's heart into painful ribbons.

"SEPHIRAH!!!"

She slumped against the windowsill of the next room and fought with all of her strength to regain control, but it was far too powerful for her weakened mind to overcome. Her legs began to twitch and move again, only faster and clumsier than before. Rounding a corner, she could hear her father slam his bulk against the windowsill searching frantically for her, afraid to gaze downwards lest he see her demise. Tears began to spill down her cheeks, every muscle in her chest trying to squeeze the air from her lungs to scream back to him.

But she could do naught but continue to flee, the rough mortar scratching her fingers and the wood driving splinters through her skin. She was surprised to feel her fingers grasp a window ledge, boosting her onto the narrow surface and tossing her through the open window. She rolled over the tiles like an acrobat, landing with her hands firmly on the floor. She dashed over to the figure in the bed, studying the frail face and then turning to the bedside where a bundle of belongings lay. Her mind raced, attempting to scream in worry and wonder. "Miss Yuffie?! What could've happened...?" she thought fearfully. Soon, her fingers grazed over a thick zolom skin belt that Sephirah's father had presented Yuffie with 18 years ago. She always wore it because cleverly crafted into it was a small compartment that could house the materia she picked up and would hide it from strangers. She had once showed it off to Sephirah when she was younger, unsuspecting of the fact that one day she would need that piece of knowledge. Untying the cleverly concealed pouch, her fingers searched through it until they closed over a cold spherical object. Sephirah was surprised to see a small black orb lying in the palm of her hand, absorbing the sunlight completely. Not a shred of light reflected from its dark surface, not even to reveal the sheen of the polished wicked object. Her hand closed tightly over it, dropping it into her own materia pouch that she carried by her side, which was currently empty of any magical objects. She darted from the room and back into the morning sunlight, tossing herself from the second story room to the ground below.

Sephirah flipped deftly through the air, cutting a graceful ark through the morning sunlight. She could feel her hair streaming behind her as she leapt, the winds of motion screeching their fury by her ears. She landed as sleek as a feline, falling to a deep crouch to absorb the shock of the fall in her booted feet. Like a tensed spring, she bounded up from the floor without hesitation, fleeing as swift as a leopard runs over grassy fields. Her feet pattered lightly over the metallic plains of upper Junon, feeling the hollow steel underneath her dainty feet. Soon she reached the edge of the plate, where a single rusted elevator was waiting patiently for use. A young man in a scratchy blue uniform and a thick woolen cap lay snoring in the corner, to her body's frenzied dismay. She became more frantic as she searched, finally dashing to the elevator and searching the immense panel of buttons that lay before her. In desperation her fist met the largest, a huge bright red button that seemed the most obvious for use. To her dismay, the heavy iron doors slid open slowly with a deafening creak. In a panic, she threw herself at the crack before it was halfway open, sliding somehow through the tiny crack and falling into the steely box. She rolled to the control panel, slamming her palm savagely into the tiny timeworn button that was marked with two black arrows pointing together. The doors creaked and slid shut just as a cry of distress from the elevator boy reached her ears.

"Huh...? Wait a minute! -Ey!" his voice was cut off from her ears as the door panels banged shut. She pounded the sea level key furiously, slumping to the floor in the corner of the elevator. Her knees were pressed to her chest securely, her quaking arms holding them to her body in an attempt that was only partially successful. She felt her stomach leap slightly as she began her descent into the nightmare she was only beginning to realize...

With a sudden jerking motion the elevator came to a complete stop. The elevator doors began to open, bathing her in a faint stream of lamplight from the city. She dashed out into the quiet peaceful morning, surprised to see how empty the streets were of people. Suspicious but desperate, she began to sprint through the paths muddied with sea-spray, the crust around her boots becoming thick and heavy with trodden dirt. She arrived panting weakly at the docks in time to spot a small fishing houseboat moored at the docks. A very muscular man was seated at the stern of the boat, pulling the anchor cord laboriously, whistling an old sailor tune while he hauled the rope over the railing. He was rather young and tough, with a cigarette hanging lazily from his slightly parted lips. The pattering of feet caused him to look up, spotting the girl as she fled towards him, glancing frantically behind her as if she were being followed. She studied him quickly, watching his face and expression with curiosity and fear. He was rugged looking and drenched with sweat and sea-spray, but the gentle sparkle in his eye told her that she would be all right.

"Excuse me, sir, but could you please take me North to the Bone Village? I-I have 2000 gil that I'll give to you when we arrive, but we have to depart now!" she pleaded desperately, showing him the bag fastened around her neck filled with money. At the clinking of the coins, the man suddenly became interested and after a moment he nodded his head silently, and said simply in a deep and thoughtful voice:

"Wait here."

Panic began to overcome her, as she waited for what seemed like an eternity before his face peered once again over the railing. "Sure, come on in, Miss," he smiled at her, throwing down a rope ladder as she leapt to the side of the ship. Hoisting herself on board, she noticed that there were two men, one slimmer and a little older than the first one. She gave them a hasty greeting, her voice low and hollow seeming.

"My name is Erika Leigh and I'm a reporter from Cost Del Sol. I have a story up in the Bone Village I really need to cover, but I missed my ship. I really need to get there..." she gasped her story quickly to the men as they looked at each other, not thoroughly convinced. The older man shrugged after a few moments glance at his younger friend and answered her.

"Welcome aboard, Miss."

---Several Hours Later

It was nearly sundown over the open seas but Sephirah continued to sit on her lonely vigil for land. Her limbs seemed flaccid and weak, devoid of their previous strength that morning. She was still out of control as if whoever was manipulating her was making sure she wouldn't return to Junon and to the safety of her father. It was then that she felt the gentle but awkward tap on her shoulder and a soft voice speaking from behind her. She jumped to her feet and turned around, seeing that it was only the younger man from before.

"Miss Erika...?" he addressed her shyly, fumbling with his hands. "We prepared a room for you. It isn't much now..." he broke out in a smile, "But it's all we have. I hope you don't mind." He led her to a sparsely furnished room with dirty linens strewn messily in the corners and thrown carelessly over chairs. It smelled of sweat and other human body odors, but it was obvious that the man had tried laboriously to clean it for her use by the cleaned and starched sheets that covered the meager mattress. She did not smile but gaze directly into his eyes, untrusting and cold.

"Thank you, sir," she said stiffly, "But I'm warning you that if your intention is to trick me, that this sword," she patted the hilt of the Masamune dangerously, "...is not ornamental. Now goodnight." She closed the door rudely in his astonished face, crumpling weakly over the thin mattress that had been prepared for her. A wave of dizziness washed over her suddenly, causing her to draw breath with a tightened gasp. She fainted weakly onto the bed as she rode the gently rocking waves slowly towards the cold shores of the North...

***

A figure began to approach her through the mist, one familiar in each curve of his mighty body to Sephirah. She smiled as his name rolled like music off her tongue and ran to him, contenting herself in his loving grasp.

"Sephiroth...?"

"My darling," his voice fell over her ears sweetly as he caressed her hair, holding her securely to his chest, "I felt it necessary to take control... I had to force you to evade your father at all costs. Plus, there was a small trinket I had to pick up..." he grinned at her proudly.

"What is it...?" she asked slowly, opening her palm to reveal the dark materia orb. It seemed to absorb the green fog that surrounded them, devouring the Lifestream greedily, to her horror. Her palm snapped quickly over it, ceasing the suctioning pull of the materia. His arm encircled her waist, reassuring her that things would be okay.

"It's nothing you have to worry about at the second, my dear," he drew her even closer towards him. Thrills of delight crept down her spine as she pressed her forehead against his, leaning up to feel the sweet breath from his lips as he whispered to her, "Just hold onto it for me. I'll tell you when and where to use it. But consider it... important." His lips grazed lightly over hers as he finished the last word, transmitting wild passion through his gentle touch. She threw her arms tightly around him, feeling his powerful heartbeat with her ear as she gave a gentle sigh.

"I'll do it... for you."


Chapter 18- The Long Voyage

When Sephirah finally woke from the peaceful slumber she felt completely renewed. She sat up in the mattress with a luxurious yawn, noticing the tip of a slim stream of light that was creeping in from the open doorway. As she glanced towards the source of sunlight, she noticed the shadow recede then disappear quickly, as if startled by being noticed. She clambered to her feet, steadying herself under the rocking lull of the ship. She was relieved to realize that she was back under her own control, her body her own once again. She checked cautiously to see that everything was in its place, and seeing to her surprise that it was, she straightened her hair and dress carefully before proceeding out onto deck. She winced at the intensity of the sunlight, gazing out upon the fiery horizon. She shielded her eyes with a hand, gazing around the deck to find the two sailors and ask for something to eat.

She found the younger man on the stern of the boat with a large bag of rations open and a few cans heating over a rusty stove. He heard her footsteps behind him and turned as if startled to see her standing there, smiling softly at him.

"I-I prepared breakfast for you..." his eyes met the deck of the ship once again. "Here!" he blurted out, gesturing towards a thin gray plate where a small fried fish lay along with a glass of clean distilled water. She smiled and beamed thanks at him in between mouthfuls as she sat, devouring the meal ravenously. As she finished the food, she attempted to break the awkward silence with the young man.

"That was a wonderful meal! Thank you ver much... I know I don't deserve it after what I said last night..." she sighed. "I'm so sorry about that... I don't know what came over me. I-I..." she was shaking her head sadly as he interrupted her suddenly to her complete surprise.

"N-No! It was my fault Miss Erika... I shouldn't have expected you to trust two strange men a few hours after you met them... I mean, you still don't even know our names! I'm Jordan... my friend's name is Derek. He was my father's best friend... they nearly died out on sea on a Shinra navy ship together, you know. They had been fished on shore alive over at Junon, but my father had been too badly injured by the rocks to be saved, even by the excellent medical staff at the hospital. When he died, I was only 4 years old... My mom died when I was an infant from a disease no doctor could identify properly. All they knew was that she wouldn't live... and she didn't," he seemed to gaze over the waves distantly, obviously thinking of his diseased parents. Sephirah felt a sharp twinge of sympathy for him, knowing what it was like to grow up without a mother. "It's been 14 years since then... I've grown up and lived on these waves. The sea's more my home than the land, I suppose. Derek's been taking good care of me, but it's always felt like something was missing. He taught me to read and write pretty nicely, as well as he taught me to appreciate the beauty of the open seas," he continued with a sigh, "But it's nothing for you to concern yourself with, Miss. I'm sorry for troubling you... If you'd like I'll get back to work and help Derek steer this ship."

"Actually, I'd like to talk to you more. Would you mind staying with me...?" her blue-green eyes pleaded with his fawn brown ones as she placed her delicate hand on his to coax him to stay. He looked at her hand and flushed crimson, then looking nervously back towards the bow, sat down and nodded.

"All right then, Miss Erika," he grinned. She shook her head and smiled.

"Just call me... Sephirah," she shook her head at him with a smile.

After several hours of Jordan working on and off on deck, they continued to talk when he took his breaks. Sephirah began to like him a lot, for in a sense he was a kindred spirit, born and raised without a mother as well as having a secret something always missing in both of their lives.

Another night passed without incident as Sephirah got to know the tiny ship. There were only two cabins, the forward one in which both Derek and Jordan were staying as well as the one in which Sephirah slept. The next morning Sephirah rose to a heavy pounding on her roof, causing her to rush outside in concern. The harsh wind knocked the breath from her lungs as the rain coursed down from the leaden clouds, drenching her wildly. She could barely make out the two men yelling back and forth over the pounding of the waves. It was Derek's voice that cut through the heavy winds, meeting her ears faintly.

"Jordan, we have to take cover... the storm's too strong! I'll go to our cabin... you take care of the girl! We don't want her to get washed away!" Sephirah poked her head out from the doorway to look for him, ignoring the relentless torrents of rain that drenched her hair and face. She saw Jordan's handsome form splash through the rain, his hand shielding his eyes and restraining long strands of his hair as he charged towards her.

"Get inside!!" he yelled to her, diving through the open door and into her room followed by a large burlap sack. Sephirah threw her entire weight against the door, slamming it closed to the dismay of the mischievous storm that howled its anger outside. They panted silently inside, staring at each other worriedly. He began to laugh heartily as he went to a small closet and pulled out a pair of towels. He threw one at her, chuckling as it enveloped her head completely and watched her scramble to take it off.

"You're soaking wet! I told you to get inside! Oh well, I suppose we both got a free shower..." he laughed wryly as he toweled off his rain-matted hair. Her light laugh joined his as they sat under the shelter of the sturdy roof.

"Well... what do we do now...?" she asked him over the patter of the rain. He slid over next to her, leaning his back against the wall with a sigh.

"Nothing but pray for the best... I don't think that storm is strong enough to capsize us, but we sure are getting a lot of rain! But the way the ship's built, we'll be fine," he said with a decisively hopeful overtone.

"...How long do you think it'll last...?" she asked quietly through the thick darkness of the cabin.

"Maybe two or three days at the most..." he said with a shrug. "That's why we were out there... we were trying to gather enough food for us all just in case," he gestured towards the canvas sacking that contained their nourishment for the length of the storm, "I don't think we'll need any more than that..." she nodded in agreement.

"Let's take our minds off the storm now. 'Sephirah'... is that a nickname? How interesting... It seems so... familiar..." his thoughts seemed to turn to something he was told long ago, but he shook his head, unable to recall the memory.

"Y-Yeah..." she flustered in reply, a little nervous. "It was something my friends used to call me... I don't even remember how it started anymore..." it seemed so evidently a lie to her, but Jordan seemed not to notice. He sat with a smile on his face, soaking up every word that was carried upon her breath like a sponge.

"I never lived long on land... I barely ever knew anyone. You're one of the first outsiders that I've really come to know, Sephirah," he began shyly. She gazed at him sincerely as she spoke her reply.

"It's the same way for me, too."