A/N: Some major revelations in this chapter. Soon, things will make sense...(or get more confusing). There will be a fight scene sometime soon in the chapters, I just don't know how to write it yet...

Thanks again for all your reviews! If you ever get bored, I'm in the process of writing a comedy piece (Dunpeal Crossing) and I have a few one-shots out there (conversation studies).

Chapter 12 – Even Gods Sometimes Fall

Why are you so shy? You've seen me now...

It's not shyness...

We will be together for eternity...

Just go...leave me...

You know I can't do that...

Tifa woke up with a start, trying to take in her surroundings. Her memory was a blur, and her head was pounding. Flames danced in front of her vision, and she feared she was still dreaming. She focused her eyes...and saw Sephiroth.

I must be dreaming...a nightmare really...

She looked closer, inspecting her vision of Sephiroth. He was sleeping, his left arm lay limply across his eyes, blocking out the firelight. His right arm was at an odd angle, and she could see that his hand was clutching his sword. An odd smirk was on his lips as he slept, like he was having an amusing dream. No, this was not a nightmare, for this surely wasn't a vision of the megalomaniac as she remembered. The fire was not all consuming, either, just a large campfire, not the burning of her childhood home. Then she looked over and saw another man, awake, and watching them with red eyes which reflected the fire back into something almost sinister.

"Vincent?" she said cautiously, her eyes squinting at the dark man. He didn't answer.

Yep, it's Vincent alright.

She turned her attention back to Sephiroth. She still had to apologize to him. She groaned.

"So..." she began, knowing that this would probably be a one sided conversation, "...Do you trust him?" He nodded, a quick nod that almost looked like a muscle twitch. She grinned nervously.

"So...you knew his mother?" He gave a quick, spastic laugh at this.

"You could say that."

"She must have loved Sephiroth very much," she said, not noticing Vincent's grimace, "to bring him back the way she did."

"..." Vincent placed his head in his hands. Tifa looked over at him and frowned.

"Oh, I didn't mean to hit a nerve or anything like that..." she quickly muttered, hoping that she didn't sound a fool.

"You did not," he clipped. She shifted her weight, suddenly feeling awkward.

Smooth move, Tifa. Now he's gonna go back to stone silence.

"Do not worry," he said suddenly, catching her off guard, "It is...what I deserve." She looked at him confusedly. His face yielded no more answers.

"I'm going for a short walk," she said springing to her feet, "I won't be long." He simply nodded and went back to staring into the fire.

Cosmo Canyon was quite the sight at night. The stars were more brilliant here than around Midgar, with its haze, and giant plate blocking the lower classes. The air took on its own life, creating optical illusions for the eye. The stars looked like they were dancing; an ancient and clockwork dance, and Tifa had stopped to look at them, her walk completely forgotten. For here, beyond the firelight, her mind felt open.

I wonder if everyone else is fine. I wouldn't have left them if it weren't for that dream...that real and aching dream. Aeris said Cloud was in terrible danger and that I was the only one who could save him.

She sniffed at her own presumption. Her dreams...were dreams. How could dreams hold sway over the true and real world? The mind was only an attachment of reality...wasn't it?

Wasn't he supposed to come and save me? "Whenever I'm in trouble, my hero will come and rescue me." I was so sure of things...when did things change?

"I think you did," the cold voice that should be warm said. She looked down from the stars, her eyes falling on someone she should be happy to see, if not for the tainted image.

"Surrender," she said, an irritation creeping into her voice, "Can't I have one silent reverie?" He held up his finger and shook it, as if scolding a small child.

"You should be happy to see me," he said, an arrogant expression adorning his once pleasant face, "Aren't I what you see each morning?" She glared, contorting her face into a mockery of femininity. He laughed, only causing the grimace to further ingrain itself into her features.

"Well, I'm not here for you anyway," he said, arching an eyebrow, "My creator wishes to speak with you." Her face flashed from its previous form into that of question.

"Creator?" she said, her eyes darting wildly around the rocks and outcroppings. Surrender smirked, pointing with his eyes to a particularly shadowed cleft, one that Tifa had not noticed before.

The first thing she heard was the heavy footsteps and the creak of metal.

It's something...big. Probably not friendly either...

She got into a defensive stance, with fists ready. As it approached, is seemed smaller than she estimated, and wondered if her senses were as acute as she originally thought. Still, she held her ground.

"Hello child," it spoke, with a strangely human voice. She was expecting something hostile, something alien, or something beastly. Not the smooth baritone that was his voice. His appearance, however, was far from human.

He stood on two legs, which were gnarled masses of wires and tubing, with the hints of a sturdy metallic skeleton peaking between the gaps; its surface smooth and reflective. The feet were like tripod bases, with one digit in the back and two in the front equidistant from each other. His torso was plated, unlike his legs; it was composed of a dark metal that seemed to absorb all the light. There were thin ridges that scattered along its surface like a web, and they carried little streams of light; prismatic marvels in their own right. One arm had a close resemblance to a hand-like appendage at the end of it; five "fingers" with what appeared to be retractable instruments for each one, the dark made it hard to see what kind of instruments they were. The other arm had what appeared to be a knife, but it glowed strangely along it edge, and as if it were a quickly shifting energy. The arms themselves were thin, with wires snaking around the unusual skeleton, but along the elbows and shoulders there were shields made of that same strange dark metal, but without the ridges of light.

She didn't want to look at the face...she feared the inhuman sight her eyes might behold.

You're braver than this...you're not a child, afraid of demons in the night.

His face was a mask...or at least it appeared as one. It had crude eye holes and a slit for the mouth. She could not make out any eyes or mouth underneath, just black emptiness. This unsettled her more than a hideous face would have.

"That stubborn recessive gene..." he said, presumably inspecting her, "Eyes that are burgundy...shame you don't have green ones." She looked at this...machine...with a skeptical look on her face.

I don't have time for games. What does this have to do with me?

"Who are you?" she felt herself burst out, mentally chiding herself for her impatience.

"One who came first," he replied, no clear emotion betrayed in his voice, "A restless spirit, whose body has long decayed."

It's human?

He's beyond human...what is the term you use for them ...Ancients?

Still uneasy with Surrender's ability to burrow into her mind, she didn't see the gravity of the situation.

"I thought Aeris was the last one..." she said, her mouth catching up with things long before her body. He answered quickly.

"So did she."

Meanwhile...

Sephiroth shifted his arm, letting one eye peek out. He saw a blurred image of Vincent, shifting from the heat of the fire.

"Is she gone?" he asked him, with an eye still covered. Vincent nodded.

"Good. That woman's more trouble than she's worth," he said amusedly, letting his arm slide off his eye and sitting up.

"Lucrecia..." Vincent said, as if the very name would conjure speeches from the other man's mouth. Sephiroth smirked.

"You're not my father, are you Valentine?" he asked, ignoring Vincent's flash of a scowl.

"...No," the other man answered, "...We were not lovers..." With that admission he cast his eyes downward. Sephiroth's face suddenly became serious.

"She told me something..." he said, his eyes wandering, "...for you." He then turned to Vincent, green eyes blazing. Vincent looked up, rapt with attention.

"She said, 'Even gods sometimes fall..." he watched Vincent closely, "...watch over them...both of them. Or I will never find peace.'" Sephiroth frowned a little at the last part. He needed no one to look after him...unlike Vincent, he was a god. Vincent's face stayed stony, and Sephiroth ascertained that it wasn't what he wanted to hear.

"I'm afraid she still doesn't love you," Sephiroth whispered, "Not how you would like it to be." Vincent scowled at this, letting the expression sink into his face.

"What do you know of such things?" he asked angrily, and stood up. Sephiroth's face gained its ever present smirk once again.

"Only what my mother has taught me," he said, thoroughly enjoying Vincent's foray into humanity. Vincent stormed off.

"Well, well, Sephiroth," he muttered to himself, "Now all I have to do is tell Lockheart that it's Strife's body I'm using, and..." he cut himself off. The thoughts seemed much more delicious in his mind.