A coupla things. First, Reeve's last name. Why? I couldn't think of anything I liked better, and at the time when I wrote this section (sometime in late summer of '00,) I was nearly done with my first season of wildlife rehabilitation, and I was raising a bluejay. One of my co-workers had named him Skye. I was fangirling over Reeve. Reeve Skye was the result. /

Also bear in mind that, since this was written four years ago, it was way before I would have even considered the notion that someday there would be an Advent Children. It seems to me now, thanks to this beautiful and clear animation, that the marks on Reno's face are tattoos. Back then, I, like most fans, took them for scars. In the spirit of that summer, and because I don't want to retro-fit anything because of Advent Children, I haven't changed that part of the story. For the purposes of this fanfic, the marks on Reno's face are scars.

There are loads upon loads of flashbacks in this section. Everything in this chapter is ShinRa. Oh, and this chapter is loooooooong.

-

Reeve

-

After a day of lying underneath a large piece of NeoMidgar, Reeve was hazily sure that his worst fear was true: there definitely WAS something lodged in his back. There wasn't enough light to see how much of his own blood had pooled around him, but he felt as if he had lost a lot. He wondered vaguely why he was still alive, since he had never been terribly Mako enhanced when he was with ShinRa. They'd considered him the brains, not so much the brawn.

He wondered also how many vital organs had been skewered by whatever had gone through him.

But most of all, he found himself wondering why he had bothered to regain consciousness again, since he was so much happier when he wasn't thinking about the fact that he was lying under a large piece of NeoMidgar with something lodged in his back. The logical thing to do was to pass out, and Reeve did it willingly; but not without going over one more time just what had gotten him into this dire situation.

-

He'd met with the Turks two days before, and had gotten them a room at the inn in Costa Del Sol before flying out to get back to his office. (Elena had insisted on paying him back for the room when they were paid from the mission. Reno had told her, smiling, to shut the hell up and let the man pay if he wanted to.) Reeve had been very glad to see them again.

He was not, however, pleased that they were all babbling about Sephiroth coming back. Reeve was sure it was another clone. But, what if it was a clone with Jenova cells? He'd never heard any solid proof that Jenova was truly gone. It was possible. It was also possible that Sephiroth might have gone over the edge without the help of Jenova and done the exact same things. And if that same Sephiroth had truly returned, Reeve would have to tell Cloud Strife and the rest of Avalanche. Mostly, he did not want to get them involved in it. There was no guarantee that Strife would be able to pull off another victory against Sephiroth anyway, and he might end up getting himself killed this time. But on the other hand, if Sephiroth truly was looking for him, Reeve could at least give him the advantage of being forewarned.

On the aircraft back to NeoMidgar, Reeve found himself torn between wanting to spare them all having to face Sephiroth again, and warning them that they might have to, should it be inevitable. He decided that after sleeping on it, he'd find out what he could from Cait Sith.

He turned his thoughts back to the Turks. They had each changed a lot, but it had still been a good meeting, for the most part. Although, he wasn't exactly comfortable talking business with them. He'd never had much to do with the Turks when they had all been with ShinRa, except on a social basis. Actually working with them, that had been Heidegger's department. Heidegger was the one who dispatched the Turks. Heidegger had set them on missions. Heidegger had sent them on manhunts in the name of "peace."

Reeve drew maps and buildings and played with computers. But he

supposed he was the only logical choice of contact for this new group who had hired the Turks. It was no secret that Heidegger was a ShinRa leftover who was still fiercely loyal to the old company. And it was also no big secret that the Turks had bailed, and no longer worked for Heidegger. And it certainly was no secret at all that he himself had betrayed ShinRa. Not only betrayed. Dissed. Hard.

So they had come to him, and he had found the Turks, and told them that a mission had found them.

Maybe he'd be able to keep in touch with them after this. It would be nice to have some friends around once again.

But a nagging worry played at the back of his mind after the meeting. Reno just hadn't been...Reno. And he had been living in NeoMidgar, the city that Reeve basically ran single-handedly.

NeoMidgar was definitely coming along. The godforsaken plate was gone for good. There was air. Might not have been the cleanest yet, but he was working on funding for better pollution control. There was sunlight. There were flowers.

But there was still not enough of anything to go around. It had gotten better-much better since Scarlet had been voted out and he had been voted in-but it wasn't a place for Reno. All of the Turks had fallen on hard times, but they could have chosen almost anywhere to fall on those hard times. Why had Reno chosen NeoMidgar? Some kind of weird act of contrition?

Reeve split his time between Junon and NeoMidgar (which some people still insisted on calling Midgar...though Reeve supposed technically it would now be NeoNeoMidgar, a thought which made him want to laugh and cry simultaneously.) He worked from two offices, and the one in Junon was closer to the people with whom he needed to work and negotiate. But he did spend a lot of his free time in NeoMidgar. With the Turks looking into a new mission, Reeve felt comfortable going back there blend in. He did that once in a while, to try to get a feel for how things were going by actually being with the people. Undercover, of course. It was surprising how few people recognized him when he took off his tie.

So a day after his meeting with the Turks, Reeve found himself walking down a dimly lit street of NeoMidgar. Too dimly lit. Electricity was another big problem. There just wasn't enough energy to sustain the population of the city and they suffered frequent brownouts. Reeve had been looking into the ideas that Cosmo Canyon had put into effect with such success, but Cosmo Canyon was considerably smaller, and didn't rely so much on electricity. And was a hell of a lot less rowdy than NeoMidgar.

Reeve sort of liked the rowdy side of it. The people had a lot of spirit. They had survived so very, very much at the hands of ShinRa, Sephiroth, and even, he thought with no small amount of shame, himself. Because he had been the man to draw up the final design of that stupid goddamned plate that had made everyone so miserable.

That night on a dark street it NeoMidgar, Reeve was surprised to find that he had stopped walking and was banging his head against a brick wall. True enough, he had often felt like doing that before, but had never actually done it, especially without realizing it. Curious. Maybe the stress was getting to him after all. It was about time he lost his mind. Damn thing kept getting in the way of his plans all the time.

The city, he went on thinking as if nothing had happened, kept taking a beating, and kept on coming back, undaunted. It was the city that refused to die. And its people, especially those of the former Sector Seven, had developed a kind of "bring it on" attitude that was very contagious.

Since Reeve had almost begun to think of NeoMidgar as his child, a child that needed a lot of cheering up, he had gotten funding for a small amusement park, modeled loosely on the arcade at the Gold Saucer and drastically downsized. Of course the funding had gone under some different name he had made up, some kind of technological or computer network research thingie, and who the hell cared what he called it; he wanted the gil for NeoMidgar and he'd gotten it. It wasn't much, just over five hundred thousand gil that would have been wasted elsewhere. And also, it was fun. He'd had it built just outside of where the old playground had been, and the playground had also been rebuilt.

It was to this small amusement arcade that Reeve was headed on that night.

It was loud and bright inside the arcade, and an audio-animatronic Mog sat... or stood, or squatted, or whatever the hell Mogs did, by the entrance. Children were admitted free; Reeve paid five gil to get in. Children, teens and adults played games and socialized and there was a room for parents to sit and chat as well, away from the noise. Reeve had no interest in that section, and he headed to one of the games, paid the gil to start the game and grabbed the controls.

It was a basic good against evil fight that was a tiny bit subversive, Reeve noted, as he shot down the invading forces in the virtual city. The city had the basic outline of the original city of Midgar, and the invaders, in a sly little twist, came from inside the entity that was the city. At least Reeve had always imagined it to be a city, but he guessed that other people could have visualized it differently. And damned if those little invaders blipping across the screen and trying to infest the city from the inside didn't remind him of a cancer at work in a body. Or maybe not so much a cancer as a rapidly reproducing virus. Yes, that was exactly what it reminded him of, now that he thought of it. Invading cells that he had to shoot down. The more he shot down, the faster they came out, and every time he beat a group of them, he was sucked further into the body-no, the city, he corrected-faster and faster...his fingers on autopilot now...

"WOOO! Damn, not bad, man!"

Reeve jumped a mile in the air, his concentration broken as the voice bellowed behind him, and came down off his rush as his little protagonist was wiped out of existence.

"Oh, sorry, did I make ya die?"

Reeve turned around to see a young man in his late teens or early twenties, staring at the screen. He had long brown hair pulled back into a ponytail, and a freckled face.

"That's all right," Reeve said. "I guess I played too long anyway."

"You got a high score, aren't you gonna enter your initials?"

Reeve shook his head. "Nah."

"Well, not bad for an old guy."

Ouch. The feeling that phrase gave him was unexpected. He supposed he did seem old to this young kid, but goddamn, he was only thirty six.

"Not bad at all," the kid said, "but that's nothing. I could whoop your ass."

He was suddenly vaguely jealous of this naive punk standing next to him. "All right," Reeve said playfully, with a challenge in his voice. "Let's go. You take the one next to me."

"You're on. You wanna play for gil?"

Reeve laughed. "How much?"

"Ten gil says I beat you. Five more gil says I beat you by at least a thousand."

"Okay," Reeve said. "I hate to take gil from kids, but, if you say so."

The kid put his gil in the slot of his game, and Reeve started his at the same time.

And he was sucked back into the world of bright, blipping lights, figures dancing across the screen... autopilot again... sucked into the little blinking world, the sounds and sights of the rest of the arcade not even peripheral anymore as his focus sharpened.

The game went on for a good five minutes, until he heard the kid

next to him swear in frustration. Reeve kept going, unaware that the young man was now behind him, staring in rapt fascination.

It ended a minute or so later, as it always did, Reeve's little icon getting wiped out by the invaders. Inevitable loss.

"Man," the kid said appreciatively. "You must really like that game."

Reeve turned around and leaned back against the game, facing the young man. "'Course I like it," he said. "I designed it."

The kid's jaw nearly hit the floor. "You made that game?"

"Well, I designed it and wrote the program. That's why I really can't take your gil."

"That's awesome! Hey Bryan! Come here for a sec!" The kid turned away and waved one of his friends over, while Reeve tried to shush him and ask him not to.

"S'up?" said Bryan, another youngster, this one with blond hair. He had a slice of pizza in his greasy handsn and he eyed Reeve warily, as if wondering why a full on adult...no, not just an adult but an "old guy," might be hanging around with his friend.

"You know this game?" Reeve's gaming competitor asked his friend as he pointed to the machine.

"Yeah," Bryan said, leaving the "so what" part unspoken.

"This guy invented it!"

Bryan looked mildly surprised. "Really?"

Reeve made a mock bow.

"I know you," Bryan said, realization dawning on his face. "I saw you on TV. You're that guy."

"What guy?" the other kid asked Bryan.

"That Reeve Skye guy. Aren't you?"

Reeve shrugged and wanted to answer "sometimes," but refrained.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Bryan asked.

"Just hanging out," he said.

Both kids smiled. "Cool," they said simultaneously.

It had only been perhaps five minutes later, maybe even less, that Reeve was walking out of the arcade, feeling slightly better, if slightly older at the same time. He'd been thinking again about NeoMidgar and its inhabitants, who liked to have a good time, and who kept on living in NeoMidgar no matter what seemed to go wrong with it. He very badly wanted to make things better in his lifetime.

And after all, how many beatings could one little city possibly take?

That was when he had first heard the low rumble, and felt the first tremor. He held onto the lamp post, the too-dim light casting his shadow softly on the cracked sidewalk. What in the hell had just happened...?

It happened again, louder and closer.

After the third rumble, there hadn't even been time for him to panic.

-

Sephiroth

-

Easily following the Turks on their first mission, Sephiroth had found himself miles out of Midgar. The Turks had gone onward in an armored van. Curious as to what their exact mission was, and what it might mean to him, Sephiroth walked after them, following the tracks. And walked. And walked. And walked.

And fought as well, because monsters were still plentiful. That much had remained the same. It was convenient too, because they carried a lot of gil and items, as well as helping him build another limit break.

He still did not have a good idea of how long he had been in the Lifestream. Midgar had changed considerably, as he'd noticed when he had first found Reno. The plate over it was gone. That was a nice change; it had been a monstrosity to look at. Almost as bad as the Gold Saucer.

Reno had changed a great deal, or so it seemed to Sephiroth. Sephiroth only remembered him vaguely as a new recruit in SOLDIER. He had known him perhaps only a month, maybe even less; he couldn't remember the exact amount of time, just that Reno had talked too much. He remembered feeling that he was probably all talk and no action, just another stupid child. But Reno must have changed for the better, as he was still alive, and now with the Turks. Sephiroth remembered something about that, but he couldn't place what it was. Had he been around for Reno's recruitment into the Turks? He couldn't remember, but it had obviously happened with or without him.

Perhaps some of Rude's better qualities had rubbed off on Reno. Rude had been around longer, but didn't stand out in his mind quite as much. What he could remember of Rude was positive, however. He knew when to keep his mouth shut.

He had never seen the blond Turk before; she must have been the latest recruit.

He could recall another Turk as well. Tall, with dark hair and eyes. Sephiroth knew that he had worked with that man, or at least spoken to him, but he couldn't find his name in his mind. Sephiroth hadn't seen him nor heard anything about him. He supposed he had met his match somewhere; men like him never died naturally. It was regrettable.

As he walked on, he thought about what else might come back to him. There was no use in forcing memories; doing that only served to frustrate him, and frustration was a useless feeling. The memories came slowly, and he was patient with them.

He remembered President ShinRa. Something told him President ShinRa was gone; he couldn't say why.

Heidegger. He'd heard the blonde Turk, Elena was her name, mention Heidegger. He was probably still alive.

Palmer.

Scarlet.

...Scarlet. Yes, he certainly did remember her. He smirked and laughed a little out loud. She was smart in technical terms, and very shrewd, but so stupid in so many ways as well. He could remember that she had tried, like nearly everyone else he had ever met, to control him in some way, share in some of his power, or delve into his world and steal a little of what he had. He had been young-younger than Scarlet-but much shrewder than she would ever be. He had never given her exactly what she wanted, which was power, and more power. But it had been amusing to waste a little of his off time with her once in a while.

As he walked, he could see more of the plate-less Midgar. And as it came into view, the ground trembled, with a low rumbling sound. Then another, almost on top of it. Then, after a brief pause, another.

In the distance, he could see a few of the taller buildings in Midgar shudder, as if there was an earthquake.

He frowned as he watched it happen. This was no earthquake; it just didn't feel natural. It felt more timed. And with the Turks over there...

This could only have been the Turks' mission, he surmised: to destroy something in Midgar. But what? he wondered. To what end? And was that all there was to it? No, it wouldn't be anything that simple. And why would they accept it?

With the dawn of realization, he remembered that when he had escaped from the laboratory, it had been near Midgar. Of course. The laboratory was under it. Someone had most likely set them to destroy it.

Well, that was one less thing he'd have to worry about, in any case.

He could see two helicopters over Midgar as it crumbled. The best course of action was to keep heading in the same direction. Something of interest was bound to turn up there.

Sephiroth had walked for a day through the remains of Midgar. It was in ruins. Survivors were panicking and looting. He kept the hood of his own stolen cloak over his head. Such a pitiful mess, as they scrambled around, with no sense of organization or efficiency, no plan of action. Who ran this city? he wondered. Why was there no immediate help? It almost seemed as if ShinRa was still in power. Who else could be so ineffectual?

He'd stopped in the ruins of what had been a weapons shop. A man, presumably the owner, sat atop what had once been a counter, crying. Sephiroth ignored him, and his eyes fell upon a tremendous broad sword. As he looked at it, he felt a tingling, almost burning pain across his front. Familiar. A broad sword with a long handle...

"What do you call that sword?" he asked the sobbing man.

The man looked up at him, sniffling, then followed his gaze to the sword. "Murasame."

Murasame... Masamune... Where was Masamune, anyway? What had become of it? It was the finest, most beautifully made katana he had ever held. He missed the weight of it in his hand.

But he needed something. Fighting with just his hands, he had reached his limit breaks very quickly. "How much?"

"Seventy five hundred."

He handed over most of the gil he had gotten, and took the Murasame.

He then found a demolished, empty materia shop. There he found Restore, Revive, Ice, and Time. He took one of each and left some gil in its place. It wouldn't do to become a thief. People often mistook calamity for a good excuse to do what they had always wanted to do and get away with it. But that only led to more confusion and chaos. Thievery was only one step above begging.

Not having slept in over a day, he then stopped to rest in the ruins of a hotel. At dawn, he set out again. He supposed the Turks had been in one of the helicopters that had been flying over Midgar. Well, he would find them again later.

He kept on walking through Midgar, finding less and less survivors

as the day went on. It seemed that, finally, some authority was evacuating the city, though they had taken their time about it.

He wondered why whoever had sent the Turks on this mission hadn't found a sounder way of destroying the laboratory underneath. But people were lazy and usually took the easy way out, over the option of having to think.

He found more and more dead as he got to the center of the city. There was really no time to feel sorry for it. There never was any point in dwelling on things you couldn't change.

But then he found something that he could change. There was a sudden, small movement right by his foot. He looked down to see a hand grasping weakly at the ground. Most of the rest of the body was covered with a very large piece of metal and cement, from where the road had broken through.

Sephiroth recognized the low, soft hum of a human consciousness dying out. It also felt familiar, and he realized he probably vaguely remembered his own dying rhythm.

With an amount of effort comparable to a normal person lifting a television set, Sephiroth lifted the piece of metal and cement, roughly the weight of a small car, and threw it to the side. Underneath it was a man, lying face down with a long piece of metal jutting out from the side of his lower back. His once white shirt was maroon with dried blood. He was broad, with black and grey hair, and amazingly, he was alive.

Sephiroth crouched down and felt along his spine and neck, making sure it wasn't broken. If it was, one move could be the end of him. After making sure that nothing vital was broken, he braced his knee against the man's back, grabbed the piece of metal that was piercing him, and pulled. It slid out easily, and the body lay still. Sephiroth used his materia to cast Cure. Then he did it once more, slowing the flow of blood, making sure the man stayed alive.

Because somehow, it felt important.

The metal piece was long, and had been lodged deeply in the man's back. Sephiroth turned him over. As he stared, he put a name to the bloody face and the staring, shock filled eyes. A handsome, intelligent face with a neatly trimmed beard and moustache.

"Reeve," he whispered. He couldn't find the last name in his mind. He'd always gone by his first name. He remembered Reeve from ShinRa, who had only just become the head of Urban Development, in his most recent memory of him. He'd designed Midgar. He'd been a sincere, if slightly naive man at the time, very bright and just shy of ambitious. He had mostly kept to himself, but had never treated Sephiroth with anything but respect and politeness. They were the about same age, from what he could remember.

Sephiroth couldn't begin to guess how much time had passed since he had seen Reeve-they had both been in their mid twenties, and Reeve had begun to go grey back then. Reeve now looked to be about thirty, but there was no use trying to judge how long he himself had been in the Lifestream by that. The two Turks he remembered had changed as well.

Sephiroth saw no reason for him to die of his injuries, even if they looked terrible at the moment. Every breath he took, few and far between, was shallow and gasping, but Reeve had been a strong person, certainly not a SOLDIER type, but one who kept in good shape. There was a good chance he'd live.

And Sephiroth also saw no reason to let him die either. So he laid both hands on him and let the cool green aura surround them both, as he had done with Reno of the Turks. It was a very powerful healing spell, and took affect almost immediately.

Reeve's eyes began to focus though he continued to stare at the sky.

"Skye," Sephiroth said quietly.

"Yes," Reeve whispered. "Goddamnit yes, a thousand times, yes..."

Sephiroth leaned closer to make out more of what he was saying. As he crouched down, Reeve's eyes locked on his, unfocused at first. Then they became aware. There was a brief moment of recognition, followed by two obvious emotions that confused Sephiroth: fear and anger.

The Turks had looked at him the same way.

His own intuition told him that moment to back up quickly, but Reeve had already managed to grab the piece of metal that had been sticking out of him, and he took a swing with it. It grazed Sephiroth's cheek, and he stood up quickly.

-

Reeve

-

Things were going very strangely in Reeve's head. He had fought for control of his thoughts, but every time he did, consciousness would rear its ugly head and he'd find himself once again lying under a piece of Midgar with something lodged in his back.

It sucked, very badly.

But he refused to die. Anyway, his entire life had not finished flashing before his eyes yet. Not that it flashed so much as...paraded. Visions here and there, scenes he liked to remember, ones he'd rather forget. And a very realistic dream in which the giant plate over Midgar, the one he had designed for ShinRa, that had caused such misery and conflict, crashed down on top of him. He couldn't bring himself to think of it as justice. Sure, he had designed the stupid thing. And sure, it had been a big mistake too...

And he had, after all, known of the plan to drop the plate. He'd tried to stop them doing it, even gone behind their backs to try to discover when it would happen so he could warn someone, but to no avail, of course. It was too sudden.

But when he had voiced his disapproval, the president had asked him if he wanted out, and he'd said no. Because he knew that when the president said "out," he didn't mean just out of ShinRa. "Out of ShinRa" was synonymous with "out of life."

So the idea of being noble had taken a long hike.

But to have the whole damn plate fall on him? That was a little harsh. He hadn't even been the one who'd sent it crashing down onto Midgar's inhabitants.

That little action had been Reno's, and for a while, Reeve had hated him for it. At least until he had heard murmurs of the truth, and that was around the time when Reeve's eyes really began to open, and he saw ShinRa for the first time. And he'd been appalled.

At first it had just been a rumor, one he had accidentally stumbled upon. Well, if one could call hacking into ShinRa's computer files an accident...

-

...Waiting for files, especially hacked ones, to download, was boring. Reeve sat at his desk, fiddling with the little robot thingamajig he'd been putting together, occasionally staring out the window. From the haziness, he could tell that it was hot as hell out there, and humid. Not in his office though. A nice frigid 60 degrees with the air conditioner on. Maybe even a little chilly for him, though he was one of those people who always seemed hot when everyone else was nice and cool.

Shut up, he told himself. Pay attention. He had misconnected two wires in his little electronic thingamajig and the head was spinning. He was awfully bored. And awfully depressed.

And bitter. And guilty. And hateful.

He wanted to throw the thingamajig across the room, but reminded himself that he was more prudent and tightly controlled than that. He settled for cracking his knuckles and his neck, and chewing on his pen.

Sector Seven of Midgar. Gone. Goodbye.

"Stress is a killer," came a smooth as ice female voice.

Reeve didn't even have to look up, but he did anyway. Better to meet her eyes than to feel her staring at him. "Good morning, Scarlet."

She walked lazily into his office, and didn't look at him as she went

to his wide window and pressed her hands against it as she stared out. "Reeve, listen."

Great. Mock sympathy from Scarlet. Smarmy bitch.

"Yeah?"

"I know it's been a few weeks and all, but I didn't get to tell you this before. I'm sorry for what happened in Midgar."

She wasn't looking at him. He could hear the insincerity dripping from her tongue. God almighty, she had nerve. She'd designed the bomb, and she had known full well what it was for. Scarlet knew everything about the corporation. Sometimes he thought she had a better grasp than the not so dearly departed President himself.

"All those innocent lives..."

"Stop it, Scarlet."

She turned dramatically and stared at him with her big, insincere eyes. "Stop what?"

Reeve sighed heavily and leaned back in his chair. "I thought the new President was your toy of the moment," he said.

She was behind him quickly, rubbing his neck, and he had to admit that it felt good. "Oh, you stop it, Reeve," she said, dropping her act. "Quit being so dramatic. You have to have realized by now that we all belong to this corporation and we all have done what we had to do. So maybe you have regrets," she said, her voice turning hard and cold, "so what, so you live with them. So a big chunk of your city got crunched, so what. Live with it. A bunch of people you never even met died. Live with it. Some flower-selling street tramp got captured and then sprung. You get the picture. You're not the only one with regrets, you selfish bastard."

What was this? Emotion from Scarlet? Had her voice actually betrayed a bit of passion? He turned his chair around so he could look at her directly. Her face, for a moment, looked almost genuinely alive. Then she faded back into her hard shell just as quickly.

"So what can you do about it?" she asked. "We belong together. All of us, all of us in ShinRa. There's no one on the outside of this corporation, Reeve. Just you. Me. The Turks. Hojo, Heidegger... One big happy family." She pushed his hair back with both of her hands, and smiled. "What can you do?"

Reeve sighed. He was so bored. So depressed. So goddamn lonely. And she was so...there. What could he do? At that moment, he had no sane idea what he could do. In that, Scarlet had a point. He shrugged, stood up, and took off his jacket.

Scarlet was a woman who didn't like to waste time, and she practically jumped on him, pinning him back against his desk as she kissed him.

If anything, the room seemed to get colder.

There's no one outside of this corporation. We belong to this corporation. Her words reverberated coldly in his mind as she began to undo the buttons of his shirt. He looked over Scarlet's shoulder and out the window where, in the distance, he could see Midgar, and the section of blue sky where the plate over Sector Seven had been.

He had fooled himself when they first started building it that he didn't exactly understand what it would mean to the people below it. Oh, people living beneath a gigantic plate? Lives devoid of air and sun? Low income housing developments? Never even considered it! So much bullshit. Yeah, he had been young and eager and somewhat naive, but not stupid enough that it really escaped his grasp. You were scared of saying no, and excited about saying yes.

Still, could all the blame go on an eighteen year old architectural prodigy?

You bet. What's the age of reason? Seven?

Scarlet slid her hands around his back, under his shirt. He stared out the window as she kissed him.

He briefly wondered what Scarlet had been like when she joined ShinRa. Had she ever been sincere or optimistic? Reeve wondered if someday he would end up like Scarlet, using people for their corporate power, reveling in destruction. Would he end up coming on to all of the girls in the building? His young secretary with her thick, dark hair and Costa Del Sol eyes? The new girl from the library who worked out in the gym? For a moment he pictured himself cornering the new blonde Turk in one of the hallways. Elena...Elena... She was so fresh, with her bobbed hair and wide eyes, looking up at him, and he was overwhelming her with his corporate power and... it was as disgusting, revolting, and deplorable as it was seductive.

And now, as he was twenty six and feeling much older...

...while the old president had been murdered, presumably by a man whom he himself had known, and the dead president's smooth son was taking over...

...while the remaining inhabitants of Sector Seven struggled to salvage what little they had earned, and buried their dead at the same time...

...while the corporation that owned him was rotting from the inside...

...the Head of the Weapons Department was climbing all over him on his nice desk, in his nice climate controlled room, mussing up his nice shirt and pants, and he had to wonder who was really the whore in this cute little scenario.

Jesus, look at me, he thought, as Scarlet kissed him full on the mouth. Look at what ShinRa made of me.

ShinRa, he knew then, was killing him. The whole corporation was slowly sucking all of the good out of him and replacing it with indifference and cool ambition. He realized with a certain amount of horror that he had stopped being the Good Guy a long time ago.

Scarlet might have been insensitive but she was not oblivious, and she had noticed that Reeve wasn't exactly there anymore. She backed away from him, watching him as he stared out the window. Her eyes narrowed in disgust. "What's the matter, Reeve?" she asked, dropping her hands to her sides. "You're too good for me all of a sudden?"

"Look, Scarlet..." he was interrupted as his computer rather loudly informed him that the file he had requested was complete.

Crap.

Scarlet tried looking over his shoulder. "What file is that, Reeve? Hmm?"

Reeve thought quickly and kicked the surge protector off under his desk, shutting the entire computer down. "My personal business," he replied.

She sneered at him. "Your personal business," she spat. "You're ShinRa. You don't have any personal business. Everything you do belongs now to Rufus. Every file you download. Every plan you draw up. Those shiny black shoes you wear. Every hair on your head." She grabbed his hair for emphasis and brought her face close to his. "YOU belong to Rufus ShinRa, and Reeve, you'd better believe me when I tell you that there is no leaving him. ShinRa paid good money for that soul of yours."

Her words and her sudden violence at his rejection shocked him. He knew that she was more angered at his rejection of ShinRa, which he suspected was becoming obvious, than his rejection of her.

ShinRa owns your soul.

He pushed her away from him suddenly. "You sadistic bitch," he hissed, straightening himself up. "Get the hell out of my office."

He had seen people's faces soften into a smile, but her face actually grew harder as she smiled. "I'm going to keep an eye on you, Reeve," she said sweetly. "If you go near anyone outside of ShinRa, I'll know about it. I can even trace your emails." She advanced on him once more and put her hand against his chest. "It's a shame," she said teasingly. "You weren't bad, you know."

She straightened her dress and walked out of his office briskly.

Reeve sat back in his chair, stunned, feeling numb. "God," he finally said out loud. "I really hate that broad." He felt like he would shower for three hours when he got home.

And then he remembered the files he had downloaded, on the recent destruction of Sector Seven. When he fired the computer up and retrieved it, he was quite surprised to learn of Hojo's involvement.

-

A few weeks after the incident with Scarlet and downloading the file on the destruction of Sector Seven, Reeve sat in the same office, staring out the same window, playing with the same thingamajig. It was still in its basic form, no covering yet, but its shape vaguely reminded him of a cat that his mother had had when he was little. It could now swivel its head from side to side and had stored a few phrases in its computer chip mind. He toyed with the idea of an advanced Artificial Intelligence program. As of now it was semi artificially intelligent. It could work out a few simple learning problems without his interference. It would be cooler though, if he could somehow control it from a distance. It would fool the hell out of people and he'd get a good laugh.

And he really needed one. He still hadn't been able to get his encounter with Scarlet out of his mind. The things she had said to him had hit him hard. He had found himself thinking more and more about the rebel group that ShinRa was after.

Not only thinking about them. Outright fantasizing about them. Because in Reeve's mind-which had admittedly been formed largely by comic books-Avalanche were the heroes, and ShinRa were the villains.

Scarlet had not been joking around. She had indeed had him followed, and she'd even gone so far as to have his home phone tapped. He noticed it immediately, since whoever had done it had been very sloppy about it. He went along with it though, pretending that he didn't know. But he did let slip once or twice over the phone that Scarlet was still hot for him and he had rejected her, just like everyone else had.

It was another swelteringly hot day as Reeve pretended to work for ShinRa, when he'd gotten the call that Reno of the Turks was coming up to see him about an important matter.

Reeve buzzed him up. He could guess what it was about, but wasn't positive. He also wasn't entirely prepared to see Reno show up in his office with a six pack, looking almost shy, in a petulant sort of way.

"Come on in," Reeve said, pretending to be distracted by work, pretending he didn't feel the least bit awkward. Most of all, pretending that he had nothing to hide, nothing that this twitchy punk with violently red hair might have to kill him over.

Reno came in, sat quietly in front of his desk, and opened a beer.

Aw, what the hell? Drinking on the job is the least of my offenses here, Reeve thought, and opened one too. "What brings you up here?" he asked.

Reno gave him a small smile that said, "As if you didn't know." There was a small pause. "Midgar," he finally said.

Reeve nodded; it wasn't exactly as he'd thought, and that was a good thing. The Turk didn't seem to be about to kill him. Instead, he seemed incredibly sad. There was the possibility that the kid was completely insane and would kill him anyway, but Reeve didn't think so. His gut feeling told him that Reno's sadness was sincere.

"Look, Reno..." he began hesitantly. He wasn't positive he knew exactly where Reno was going with this, but he decided to take a chance. And if Reno knew that he had stolen the file on Sector Seven, then there was nothing Reeve could do about that, and he might be better off admitting it. "Look," he went on, "I know all about what happened..."

"Yeah well, I just wanted to say I'm sorry. I know how lame that sounds, 'oh, sorry for blowing up your city.' And I'm not going to give you an excuse either; it's what happens in war. But for what it's worth, I am sorry it happened."

Reeve nodded, unsure of how to follow up. Of all things, he had not expected this. He took a sip of beer and sat back in his chair.

Reno spotted Reeve's little toy robot sitting next to the desk. He nodded sullenly towards it. "What's that?"

"Oh, that...I'm not sure yet. Just something I'm fiddling with when I get bored, which is often. I guess for now it's a piece of...semi intelligent talking hardware. Or something."

Reno's face brightened for a moment. "It's a S.I.T.H." he said.

"A... Oh yeah, a S.I.T.H." Reeve smiled.

"Well anyway, I just wanted to tell you that I was sorry. So I guess I'll get going."

"Finish your beer," Reeve suggested. "This way if I get caught, I can blame it on you."

Reno looked at him sharply for a moment, unsure. Then the corner of his mouth quirked up in a sly smile.

About two hours later, when most everyone else had clocked out, Reno was showing Reeve how his ElectroMag rod worked, and the six pack was gone.

It was nice to have someone to talk to that wasn't directly involved with his job. Sure, they worked for the same company, but Reno knew as much about city planning as Reeve did about, well, about whatever the Turks did. Reeve suspected Reno felt the same, and an edgy sort of camaraderie began between them. In ShinRa, everything was edgy.

Reeve was playing distractedly with the EMr while Reno played with Reeve's computer on his desk.

"Hey Reno," Reeve began suddenly, not entirely sure what made him think to ask, "I know this is a personal question, so you can tell me to go to hell if you don't want to answer it..."

"Yes, it's my natural color, and yes, I can prove it if you want."

"Jesus, no," Reeve said, laughing.

"I know, I know," Reno said as he looked up from the computer, still smirking over his own joke. "The scars," he said, running his hand down his cheek. "You wanna know how I got them."

"How'd you know?" Reeve asked.

"Because that's what always follows the phrase 'this is a personal question, but...'"

Reeve nodded. "Just out of curiosity."

"Why else?" Reno replied. "It's not a long story, and no, I'm not sensitive about it or anything. It's pretty basic. You know, before I was in the Turks, I did a lot of odd jobs, finding things out for people, a little espionage here and there, piddly shit like that. I found some things out about someone that I wasn't supposed to, someone else wanted to know what it was, I didn't want to tell them, they had ways of making me talk. That kind of thing."

"Did you talk?"

Reno smiled slyly. "You better believe it," he said. "I told them all kinds of things. None of it was true, but, you know. Bought me enough time."

Reeve nodded, glad the question hadn't bothered him, and Reno went back to looking at the computer screen.

Suddenly Reno spoke up. "Reeve, you dog!" he said, half laughing. "Who knew you were a perv?"

Reeve looked up sharply, sure that Reno had just found something in the computer files that Scarlet was sending around about him. Nothing was sacred to her. "What do you mean?" he asked. "Did that unprofessional hussy..."

Reno was looking at the computer, laughing. "It's not Scarlet, but thanks for letting me know that she has that kind of information on you," he said. "Talk about a guilty conscience."

"Whatever," Reeve said, trying to fight the flush he felt in his face, and looked up at what Reno was reading. He'd gotten into some real time chat files on Reeve's PlanetNet program, which he never used, but were nonetheless there on his computer.

"Jeez..." Reno mused, reading down the list of chat rooms, "'Fat in Costa Del Sol...' 'Junon Harbor Sub4Dom...' 'Wife Likes To Watch!' 'I'm A Bad Chocobo...' Oh, this one's my favorite, 'MogLove!' Do you actually go to those chats?"

"No," Reeve said, laughing.

"Yeah, so you say." Reno looked from the computer to Reeve, his eyes serious, though he was still smiling. "So you and Scarlet..."

Reeve rolled his eyes. "God, that's history. Please don't remind me."

"Yeah," Reno said. "Me too. Guess she's going through all the big names in ShinRa, huh? All the heavy hitters?"

"Maybe. I don't care." Reeve shrugged, and didn't want to talk about it anymore.

Suddenly the pager on his desk buzzed again. It was his secretary, informing him that now Tseng of the Turks wanted to see him.

He frowned questioningly at Reno, who shrugged.

"Send him up," Reeve said.

A minute later, Tseng was at his door.

Reeve had seen him around many times, but had never had a reason to talk to him, other than saying hello in passing occasionally. He looked to be a very stern and serious person, and he certainly didn't go out of his way to be friendly.

Tseng looked mildly surprised to see Reno in Reeve's office.

"Just leaving, boss," Reno said, suddenly becoming an entirely different person. He straightened his posture and attempted to smooth his hair with both his hands. He failed spectacularly at this endeavor.

"Thank you, Reno; I need to speak to Mr. Skye alone," Tseng said.

Reno nodded. "Later, Reeve," he said casually, and closed the door quietly behind him as he left.

"Mr. Skye," Tseng greeted him.

"Reeve."

Tseng nodded, his hands still clasped formally behind his back.

Reeve wondered if Reno would be in trouble for coming to discuss Midgar with him. He wasn't entirely sure how the Turks worked, he only knew that Tseng was their leader, and they all worked for Heidegger. "Umm, Mr. Tseng," Reeve said, looking him in the eyes, "Reno just came by socially, after work hours, and we didn't really talk about anything important, so..."

Tseng waved his hand dismissively. "That's not why I'm here," he said. "I know that what happened with...with Midgar and Reno and myself is already all over the place. I know that Reno needed to talk about it, and I'd had the feeling that he's, in his own way, turned you into Midgar itself, so that he could tell you he was sorry. It's part of his process, I think. But, I have other things I need to discuss with you."

Reeve waited while Tseng stalked quietly around his room, eventually stopping at his window and staring out of it. He seemed to focus on the point where the plate over Midgar used to be.

"There are very few people left in ShinRa whom I can trust anymore," he said finally. "Aside from my Turks, whom I trust implicitly. But, they're too notorious already and Avalanche has a way of always finding them out."

Reeve felt his heart sink. Tseng, implausible as it seemed, was probably going to ask him to do something to Avalanche; something that he wouldn't want to do.

"It seems that the Turks can't really get close to them." He turned away from the window and watched hawkishly for Reeve's reaction. "I just need a line on them," he said. "I know I could ask a number of ShinRa people who are trained for this sort of thing, and who have ways of being inconspicuous. But I can just as easily imagine each one of those people slipping a knife into my back, too."

Reeve was almost insulted. Did Tseng think he was totally harmless? "What makes you think I wouldn't?" he asked, trying not to sound hurt.

Tseng smiled slightly. "Only because I know how you feel about Avalanche, and that I also have their interests in mind, to a point. Before you become paranoid and ask how I know, let me just say that it's my job to know, and that no one else does. Except maybe Scarlet. You come across as a sympathizer. It's not terribly obvious, so don't worry about it."

"All right, so what?" Reeve asked, a little harshly. "So I agree with some of what they stand for. Wouldn't that make me more likely to slip a knife in your back, as you say?"

Tseng stared at him for a long moment, assessing him and choosing his own words carefully. "I like you, Reeve," he said finally. "I like you because you're into a little bit of everything, and you know how to keep quiet about it. You're an undeniably brilliant planner and architect, but you also know a lot about computers; you even have a good deal of martial arts training in your background, and you also served in SOLDIER for a very short time, didn't you?"

Reeve was too stunned to answer. No one aside from old President ShinRa had known about that, and a few of the people he'd served with. He had been in SOLDIER for a few months when he was 17, and had even had one or two sessions of Mako treatment.

"I care about Avalanche as well," Tseng said, still staring into his eyes before turning away as he continued talking. He went back to looking out the window. "Though maybe not for the same reasons you do."

Reeve saw that there was probably no hiding anything from this man, so he might as well be as honest as he could and hope for the best. "I think that Avalanche has the right idea about a few things," he admitted. "And ShinRa...and ShinRa..." He struggled with the words, as if they didn't want to leave his mouth. He had never uttered them before, not out loud, even to himself. "And ShinRa is wrong about some things, too."

Tseng nodded, still not looking at him. "It took a lot of nerve for you to even say that, when you know it could get you killed. But I appreciate your honesty, so I'll be honest with you too. I have my own reason for following Avalanche, and it has little to do with ShinRa's best interests. There's a girl." He tensed up as he said the words. "It's not what you're probably thinking. I've known her since she was a child."

"The Ancient?" he asked. "Gainsborough?"

"Right. Aerith. She's...she's very naive. She has no idea what she's getting involved in. ShinRa is searching for a vitally important artifact that will open the door to the Temple of the Ancients. I'm about to send Reno, Rude and Elena searching for it. Avalanche will no doubt be searching for it as well." Tseng's hands clenched into fists at his sides, then relaxed. "Cloud Strife must not be allowed to get into that Temple. I can't tell you why, other than that it could be very destructive if he did. It could potentially get Aerith killed. It could also get the rest of Avalanche killed. Believe me when I tell you that those are the two least harmful things that might happen. In fact, if this artifact fell into the wrong hands... Let me just say that Strife's hands are the wrong ones. He's a very dangerous person."

Reeve tried to put it all together in his mind. The six pack he had shared with Reno wasn't helping him very much. "So you don't want Cloud Strife to get the keystone?"

Tseng turned around briskly, frowning at him. "I didn't mention the keystone to you, Reeve," he said.

Reeve tensed. You dumbass, he told himself. But he was beginning to understand Tseng a little bit; to understand that he appreciated a good mind. Instead of clamming up, he gave him a broad smile, and shrugged. "I guess you're not the only one who knows how to find out details like that," he said.

To Reeve's great relief, Tseng smiled back, and even bowed slightly. "Forgive me for having underestimated you," he said. "You have to keep on your toes in this corporation. You have to mind everyone else's business.

Or you end up like our old president."

"Hmm," Reeve said noncommittally, even though he felt his skin prickle over Tseng's blithe dismissal of the late president. "So what is it that you think I can do for you?" he asked.

"I'm not entirely sure yet," Tseng admitted. "I didn't have a solid plan in mind. Something just told me you were the person to come to; maybe it's my intuition, but it felt important. You're quiet and you mostly keep to yourself. You don't let people in on your secrets."

Reeve considered everything Tseng was telling him. It certainly was a charming little speech, and flattering as well. More importantly, it made sense in strange way. Tseng seemed sincere.

"I can't do it," he was surprised to hear himself say. He was so stunned at his own reply that he felt his jaw drop for a moment, then he composed himself, and went on autopilot. "I'm the wrong person to ask. I'm not a spy; it's just not something I'm highly trained for. Plus..." He faltered, and looked away from Tseng.

Tseng leaned over Reeve, with both palms placed on the desk in front of him. "Morals?" he asked, with a chilly smile.

Reeve looked up at him again. "Yes," he said. "I know I'm not necessarily in a position to talk about morals but, I just don't think I could do this."

Tseng nodded, and backed away slightly. "Do you want out, Reeve?" he asked.

It didn't sound like a threat, but you could never tell, especially with the Turks.

He had said "no" once, and sat back quietly while Sector Seven was crushed. Perhaps he was even more at fault than Reno after all.

"Yes," he found himself saying to Tseng, in a choked whisper. God help me, he thought, I want out of ShinRa. God help me. He cleared his throat, which was suddenly very dry. "Yes," he repeated, with a little more confidence.

Tseng was still leaning over him, that chilly smile on his pale, smooth features making Reeve edgy enough to want to jump out the window. "Me too," Tseng finally said, just as quietly.

It wasn't until a few weeks later that Reeve decided that Tseng was sincere. The fact that Tseng hadn't had him killed, or even reported their conversation, was enough to convince him. He was still thinking over what Tseng had asked him to do.

He'd been leaving the little Cait Sith robot at home, because he'd been thinking that, if he did do as Tseng had suggested-not to say he would, of course, but if he did-it might have something to do with that little Cait Sith thing.

Cait Sith had become something of an obsession for Reeve over those weeks, as he used his work on it to distract him from everything else. When he was building and programming it, he didn't think so much about Scarlet having him followed.

He's also firmly decided upon an Artificial Intelligence program chip, and installed it.

It was a warm, balmy night when Reeve opened his own front door after a particularly tense day in ShinRa, to find the little cat robot in front of the TV.

"REEEEVE!" it squeaked as he opened the door.

Reeve almost jumped out of his socks. Goddamn robot cat had just screamed at him. It ran for him. He flinched back against his door, and it wrapped its arms around his leg.

"You're home! Hey, I've just been waitin' around your little ole' house for you to come home," it said.

Reeve was seriously creeped out, and a little confused as well. "Little ole' house?" He didn't speak like that, so where could his AI robot have learned that sort of talk? Then he realized that the computer chip mind had been tuned into the TV all day. God only knew what it picked up from there. In a way, he thought, it was a good thing. Cait Sith sounded nothing like him.

The next day, he'd made up his mind. Cait Sith was programmed to talk and act on his own, but Reeve could also speak, watch and listen through him if he had to. And neither Reeve nor his computer cat counterpart would actually have to harm Avalanche. The mission was to save Cloud Strife from himself, and to make sure that the Black Materia never got to either him or Sephiroth. To at least make sure that the Turks got the keystone before Avalanche did.

Tseng had also promised him that if he would help the Turks, he'd get Scarlet off his back as well.

And back then, only two people knew of Project Cait Sith.

Just him...

...and Tseng...

-

..."Project Cait Sith has to die with me."

"You're not going to die. Tseng, it's me, Reeve."

Tseng laughed weakly, coughing up blood. "You look like a robot cat on a stuffed Mog. Just let me go, Reeve."

"No."

He'd cast Cure3, over and over.

"Don't let Sephiroth get the Black Materia," Tseng whispered. "Keep it from Sephiroth at all costs. Even if it means giving it to Avalanche. Avalanche over Sephiroth, when faced with the choice."

"What are you going to do?"

"I have to stop Aerith. I need you to look after Elmyra and Marlene... ShinRa doesn't know how to treat..."

More coughing.

"I hear you, Tseng. I'll do what I can," Reeve said, to stop him from trying to talk so much.

"And Reeve, when Rufus asks..."

Long pause. Reeve knew what was coming next.

"I'm dead."

And Tseng had gone. Tseng was out. Out of ShinRa, at least.

And then the Temple of the Ancients... Black Materia... Cloud Strife, Sleeping Forest and then...

-

Reeve went from memories to outright hallucination, as he remembered the gruesome scene in the Forgotten Capital. Except that in this hallucination, he was Aerith; he had somehow taken her place. Yes, he could feel the blade pierce his back, he could feel Sephiroth pull the blade out of his back, hard and swift... Hot damn, that hurt. But the pain faded quickly. He supposed he was dying, as Aerith had died, but was too weak to feel scared. He only felt a little sad.

Then, his true memory of the Forgotten Capital returned, and Aerith was Aerith again, and...

...he saw and heard through the eyes and ears of Cait Sith. God, how he wished he could forget. That little girl, falling into Strife's arms, dead before he even caught her. Damnit, she had been praying. Praying, of all things.

"Life," he could hear Cloud whispering as he held her. "Life, Life, Life... Life..."

But the magic was gone and it was too late anyway.

He wanted to forget the look on her face, even more than he wished to forget Sector Seven. He wanted to forget Strife's grating sobs, the tears on Tifa Lockheart's face, the silent, subtle prayer Cid Highwind had whispered. Nanaki's mournful howl, Barret Wallace's anger, Vincent Valentine's resigned sigh. And tiny little Yuffie Kisaragi, who hadn't a care in the world before then other than Materia, falling into Cloud Strife's arms, sobbing. Strife, too stunned and numb to do anything other than let Yuffie cling to him.

He knew it would never go away.

He'd been in the guestroom that night, as Elmyra Gainsborough slept fitfully in the next room. He'd let Cait Sith go automatic for a few moments.

-

The pain came and went quickly, like flashes of hot and cold. With it came more images-memories that were twisted in with some terrifically bizarre hallucinations. One of them was from a dream he'd had back when Cait Sith had been completed.

The little robot approached him slowly in the dark. Reeve couldn't see it, since its fur was black and the room was too dimly lit, wherever the hell he was. But he could hear its soft, slow footsteps drawing closer to him. The room was stiflingly hot. He saw Cait Sith's big stuffed Mog in the corner; it stood out because it was white. It stared blankly at him and didn't move.

He was filled with a terrible sense of dread; this was not his clever little invention. This was something else. This was something sentient... inhabited.

He felt movement beside him as he crouched against the wall.

"Please," Cait Sith said in a catlike hiss, "let me hurt someone."

Reeve pushed it away and it lashed out at his hand with its fangs.

Suddenly old man ShinRa stood over him. Towered over him.

Stand up to him, you coward, Reeve told himself. But he found he couldn't move.

"You want out, Reeve?" ShinRa asked in the darkness.

Tell him yes, Reeve thought. Tell him yes you want out, goddamnit yes, a thousand times, yes!

He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out, and he couldn't get a deep breath. YES! he tried to scream once more. Still nothing. If he could have screamed in frustration, he would have done so.

In the far corner of the room, Cait Sith sat once again atop that

stupid Mog, holding a little black remote control. As they advanced closer, Reeve saw that there was writing on the control. "Speak," was written under one controller. "Breathe," read another. "Move," "Fight," "Magic." And the last one, the one over which Cait Sith's little gloved hand was poised, read "Die."

Cait Sith came closer. As he pressed the button, Reeve saw that his eyes were bright, glowing green.

-

Returning to consciousness, with a thrill of fear, Reeve realized that Sephiroth was crouching over him, looking into his eyes.

Well, even if his luck was bad, at least it was consistent.

Suddenly everything came back to him: his meeting with the Turks, the news of Sephiroth's return, their mission, and his being in NeoMidgar when it suddenly fell on him.

And now NeoMidgar was in pieces all around him, again for godsake, and he didn't have to wonder who was responsible.

It pissed him off. Sephiroth had killed Aerith and a thousand other

people. He'd been responsible for the deaths of children. He was a mass murderer, he was ShinRa at its worst and gone hideously insane as well, and he had absolutely no right coming back after Strife had finished him off.

In his sudden fury, Reeve grabbed hold of the first thing his hand touched, which happened to be the heavy shaft of metal that had gone through him. He was vaguely aware that it was warm, and covered in the stickiness that only came with blood, and he swung it with what strength he could muster.

It didn't matter that it had only grazed the monster that had returned and found him. It didn't matter that Sephiroth was probably going to kill him. He'd had enough. Waking up with his city crumbled beneath him and his internal organs skewered, with that madman staring down at him as if he was the most interesting find on the Planet, was enough to push him to his limit.

Sephiroth, however, was standing up once more, and had the nerve to not show any sort of surprise, which infuriated Reeve even more. He stood up to face Sephiroth, paying no mind to the fact that his sudden movement had reopened the wound that went all the way through his body. He raised the metal shaft again and prepared to lunge at Sephiroth.

However, with a small wave of his hand, Sephiroth sent Reeve's weapon sailing out of his grip.

Reeve, not only having reached his limit, but also his Limit Break, felt a surge of power. He barely noticed that every movement he made caused more blood to spill out of him. With a low, feral growl that he would have more expected to hear come from Cloud Strife than from himself, he ran towards Sephiroth and tackled him.

-

Sephiroth

-

"You idiot!" Sephiroth grunted, prying Reeve's fingers from his neck. "What the hell are you doing?" He had half expected that metal bar to come swinging towards him, just by the look on the other man's face, but he had honestly been surprised by the ferocity of this attack. In fact he'd actually taken a few hits, and he could sense that this attack wasn't caused by status materia induced confusion either. He wondered what in the wide Planet could have changed enough to make Reeve, of all people, lose his reason.

He easily pushed Reeve off of him once he overcame his surprise, and rolled out of the way. But Reeve was still coming at him. Reeve, however, had used up his Limit Break and was now just fighting out of whatever insanity drove him. He ran towards Sephiroth, who easily sidestepped him. Sephiroth hooked him around the shoulders, turned him around, and snaked one arm around his neck, nearly lifting him off the ground. Reeve's back was to him, and Sephiroth could feel the blood running out of him; all the fight in him seemed to go with it.

"What's going on, Reeve?" he said quietly.

"Bastard," Reeve managed to choke out.

"What?" Sephiroth eased his grip slightly.

"Goddamned crazy motherloving bastard..."

Sephiroth took a moment to consider those things. Goddamned. Yes, most likely. Crazy? Some people had thought so. Bastard. Well yes, in the truest sense of the word, and probably figuratively as well. Again, some people had thought so. Motherloving? That was a new one, and the randomness of it confirmed that Reeve was completely out of his mind.

Sephiroth chose his next words carefully.

"I want to make sure you're listening to me, Reeve," he said, "because I'm only going to say this once." There was no reply, but he was sure he had the other man's attention. "I have been in the Lifestream for some time now. Unfortunately I've been called back to this godforsaken rotting Planet and I seem to have come at a bad time. You're hurt pretty badly, and I can probably help you. But you'll have to tell me what's going on, because I don't remember much. I'm under the impression that I did something you objected to, but this isn't going to help. Now..." he said, letting his hand creep up to Reeve's throat, "you can tell me what I need to know, which would be beneficial to both of us, or you can continue to fight. But I promise you, no matter what is driving you to this, you can't beat me; there has never been anyone who could, and unless by some miracle you've become the strongest warrior on the Planet, you're going to be hurt worse than you already are. I don't want to have to hurt you, but I won't hesitate to." He gave him a moment to let that sink in. "Do you understand that?"

He never got an answer, as Reeve had decided against consciousness once more. Sephiroth let him slip to the ground, disgusted with the entire situation.