Jag had never been more relieved when they had managed to get past the guards. He took Caaliey and Tyren to one side, and told them to keep out of the way of everything.

"It's best if we stay unnoticed, obviously. Don't forget, we're soldiers who were put onto guarding this ship's cargo at the last minute. If anyone talks to you, pretend to be disgruntled that you're missing out on your spare shifts."

Tyren turned to him, and Jag felt grateful that he couldn't see his face. His green eyes were a constant rebuke, and any words Tyren directed at him cut more deeply than anyone else's could.

"And what's this precious cargo we're taking from here to Nibelheim? Bodies of prisoners to dump in Mt. Nibel?"

Behind his helmet, Jag blanched. You wouldn't know how close you are to the truth. He took a deep breath before he trusted himself to speak. He didn't want them to find out the real nature of the cargo, at least not yet. Who knew what they might do, especially Tyren, who had probably been very close to the same fate. This was the last batch, anyway, so it wouldn't hurt if they were kept in the dark a bit longer.

"Just standard stuff," he heard himself say, and also winced at the truth in that statement.

"It's nothing much. We should probably go see if they need our help with anything, so it doesn't look like we're being lazy."

With that, he strode away before he was faced with any more of those unnerving questions.

Tyren sighed. The length of the journey was wearing down his patience. Worse yet, he didn't even know if that Shinra could be trusted. Maybe they'd just be put down at Nibelheim, left to fend for themselves, while the airship flew off, the Shinra with it. He was itching to see what this cargo was that Shinra had been so eager to put him off. He gestured in the direction of the toilets, and at their nods, walked down the corridor. When he was around the corner, he began searching for a way into the cargo hold. He was certain that there was an entrance here, as he had seen various soldiers bring bags of supplies down this corridor, emerging empty-handed. He found it at the end of the corridor, in the form of a hatch. Lifting it up, he clambered down in a hurry, before anyone could spot him. To be confronted by a mass of people in black cloaks, pressing in around him.

"...must... go... Reun... ion..."

"...Where... are... you...? Great... Se... phi... roth..."

"The... Great... Se... phi... roth... is... near..."

" He's... calling... Sephiroth... is... calling..."

The voices, eerily devoid of all though and emotion, touched something inside him. Drawing his sword, desperation in his eyes, he lifted his voice above all those around him, slashing at them.

"I'm not like you! I'm nothing like you! We're completely different! I'm not going after the legendary Sephiroth! He doesn't control me, or my thoughts, or my actions! I'm completely independent, do you hear? I'M NOT LIKE YOU!"

A chillingly familiar voice broke through his frenzy. It came from one of the black cloaks, he could tell.

"Tyren, Tyren, Tyren. You're not like them? I cannot control your thoughts? But I have come so close, and willingly let you go. How many times have we spoken before, and how many times have you woken up to find yourself in places you would not have gone willingly? I am Sephiroth to those mindless creatures, as that is the tool I use. I am Sephiroth to the other, as it is Sephiroth he is after. And to you, I am Raun. He is who I use to provoke you to my will. But above all else, I AM JENOVA. And this I tell you. Your pathetic parents will not be in Nibelheim. The Shinra placed those with my cells there, but I have already summoned them. The North Crater. That is where you must go if you wish to find them. I already have what I need. It is in the hands of the other failure. And he will bring it to me, whether he wishes to or not. You, you must make your way directly to the North Crater if you are to find your parents in time. Or, do you wish to fail again?"

Its mocking laugh jerked Tyren out of his shocked stupor, and he felled the black cloak where it stood. Scrabbling at the ladder, he raced out of the hold, slamming the hatch shut behind him. He was shaking as he sank down to the ground, and the last thing he saw was a Shinra soldier approaching him, as the darkness reached up and grabbed him.

As soon as he saw Tyren, Jag knew, with a sinking feeling, that Tyren had discovered what the cargo actually was. Not good. He'd had to, with Caaliey's help, drag him into an empty room just down the hallway. He could hear the chocobos rustling in the straw in the room above him, and hoped that the noise would cover them. Caaliey hovered over Tyren the same way he remembered Hojo doing over his beloved experiments, and he rolled his eyes at the uselessness of it. He thought of mentioning it, but some shred of wisdom in him told him it would be better if he kept his mouth shut. She voiced her concerns freely to Jag.

"I hope he didn't go crazy again. I don't see any other reason why he'd just faint like that. Unless he's sick, and that's the real reason why he's been acting so strangely. Then again, he doesn't feel feverish… I don't see why he can't just forget about everything and move on."

Irritated, he decided to speak up.

"I think he's just had a huge shock. You came when he was already unconscious, but I saw him shaking before he hit the ground. It wasn't a pretty sight. And worrying isn't going to do much. Just leave him be. He'll wake up when he wakes up."

She ignored him, and pulled out a green materia. Placing on the armour on her wrist, she crouched down beside Tyren, shutting her eyes in concentration. The ribbons of magic wrapped around him, then faded away, leaving no noticeable difference. Caaliey opened her eyes, anticipation shining through, only to be extinguished when she found him in the same state as before. Closing her eyes again, she repeated the process over and over, until she was so obviously exhausted that Jag felt the obligation to step in, and gently shuttle her away.

"Cure materia can't do everything. I think this is one of those things that's best left alone."

She nodded mutely, too tired to fight, and curled up in a ball in a corner of the room. Great. Now I have two people to worry about.

In the middle of the room, Tyren groaned, and they both rushed over to him.

Caaliey sat herself beside Tyren as his eyes fluttered open. Hearing his voice, filled with despair as it was, and knowing that he was ok and perfectly normal filled her with relief.

"They're not at Nibelheim. It's too late. They're already gone from there. I was too late. I should have gotten there earlier. It's all my fault. I let them down again. Am I doomed to be nothing more than a failure? Is that my life?"

His eyes were blank, staring straight up at the ceiling, containing a lifelong pain she'd never seen before. She looked at Jag, and saw that he, too was worried about the sudden change in Tyren. Even though his words made no sense to her, she continued to nod as he continued talking.

"Raun told me, you know. Except that he's not Raun. He's also Sephiroth, but he's Jenova. And I have to go to the Northern Crater. He told me that too. I don't know how to get there, though. I don't even know where it is. I never listened in geography. My parents always told me to listen in class, and I never did. I really screwed up there. I know failure very well. But it's always the one finding me. Always."

Caaliey didn't know what to say. Instead, she placed her hand on top of his clammy one.

"Just sleep, Tyren. And I want you to know that I don't think you're a failure. If you were, I'd never have put so much trust in you. Quit moaning, and do something about it."

Tyren finally swivelled his gaze to stare at her.

"That's nice."

Then he closed his eyes again.

Jag dared not look directly at Caaliey as she spoke to him.

"He's raving and delirious. How are we supposed to get him out of here in this condition?"

"I don't know. We have a few minutes to think of a plan, though. The Highwind's about to land, and we have to get him out of here without anyone the wiser."

"Why don't we just carry him out? Say he collapsed or something, and needs the fresh air."

"And how do you propose we do that? I can't carry him AND his sword, and I doubt you could lift his sword alone."

"Hey, I got it!"

Caaliey ran out of the room at that point, leaving Jag staring, dumbfounded, at the door. He then turned his attention back to Tyren, willing him to get up. At worst, we can just wrap him in a black cloak and pass him off as a clone, I suppose, he thought resignedly to himself. The sound of something being wheeled into the room made him spin around into a defensive position, and he found himself looking down his rifle at Caaliey and a large moving cart. Throwing off the blanket and boxes, she grabbed Tyren's feet and began to drag him onto it. Jag quickly grabbed his upper body, lifting it to the level of the cart. Caaliey rebuilt the boxes around Tyren, and threw the blanket back over the lot. With a nod at Jag, she replaced her helmet, and he followed suit. Together, they wheeled it out, past unsuspecting soldiers, and down the ramp to Nibelheim.