And I wouldn't mind knowing, knowing

That you wouldn't mind going, going along with my plan

When it will be right, I don't know

What it will be like, I don't know

We live in hope of deliverance from the darkness that surrounds us

--Paul McCartney

"Tseng?"

The peculiar lilt of her voice struck him like a block of ice thrown straight at his chest. Tseng? The questioning way she said it made him pause to replay it in his mind over and over and over again. Tseng? As if she was asking him a question, as if she were questioning why he was here, as if she knew him. Yes, she recognized him. Therefore she knew him and he knew her, because his voice had the same question. So, if he knew her and she knew him, and they were here now together, what a lucky coincidence this might well be. Depending, of course, on your point of view. Yes, lucky, lucky coincidence.

Inwardly, he seethed but outwardly all he did was narrow his eyes so slightly that you could barely tell the difference.

All time had stopped it seemed, because no one had moved from their respective spots. Not a sound was heard. Not a sound but the beating rain, which increased its pace tenfold. It pelted the weary travelers and the Turks surrounding them, driving infinitesimal holes into the soft earth beneath their feet. Sephiroth was the first to move.

He turned his head very, very slowly, so as no to spook the Turk into shooting him. There were things to do and confirm before he killed him, and he'd certainly want the chance to do that uninjured. He leveled a very unkind glare at the girl, searching her face for what he feared.

She didn't notice his movement or his coolly questioning gaze. No, she was actually walking out from behind him to get a better look at the Turk. Her head was tilted to the side in a gesture which, if he were free to think such things, might be considered cute or endearing. To him, it was simply one of the many unconscious gestures that made her who she was and nothing more. Still, the way she reacted to the Turk irked him and made his desire to end the man's life all the more potent. She moved out from the protection he offered. She moved forward and past him. Towards the Turk and his eyes followed her.

There was no definitive clue. No moment when he said to himself, "AHA! I knew it!" There was only a piercing kind of cold fire that flared briefly in his chest. He knew, deep in his heart he knew...

"What are you doing here?" She asked as if she were innocent of the rapidly burning suspicion that ate at his heart.

Recognition. Noun. Definition...The act of recognizing or condition of being recognized.

The Turk's eyes flickered to him and back to the girl.

"Aeris, there's no time to explain. Get behind me, now."

Alternate definition...The form of memory that consists in knowing or feeling that a present object has been met before.

"Why?"

The Turk's eyes left her and locked onto his own.

...The state or quality of being acknowledged...

"Aeris, get behind me." He said slowly, raising his left hand out to beckon to the girl. The other hand slowly moved up to train the gun on Sephiroth.

The girl looked at him quizzically, shrinking back a little from the intense emotion in his voice. Tseng had always been so cool, so calm. But the fear in his voice, the slight worried inflection when he pressed her to get behind him. He was afraid. Why should he be afraid? Then she remembered Sephiroth. She followed his gaze, wanting to see what he saw. And what she saw was fury in its purest form. He was gazing at Tseng with the kind of hate one reserved for only one's mortal enemy.

She knew that he'd been enhanced with mako, having noticed its subtle glow when he was in-between waking and dreaming. It had unnerved her, particularly when she had to change his bandages at night because his eyes would open briefly and illuminate the small tent with an eerie, otherworldly light. Then, they glowed softly with a gentle, firefly-like light. It was strange to be sure, but not much stranger than being able to cast magic without materia. Not much stranger than hearing the planet's voice. And she had to admit, she kind of liked the way his eyes glowed. But that was then...and this was now. Now, they burned with feral, unquenchable fire and were murderously bright with unrestrained rage.

The rain pounded harder. Lightening struck suddenly, blinding her momentarily. A thunder-crack sounded just afterwards, so loud that it felt like her heart had been set off its rhythm. And when she could see again, his burning gaze had turned to her. He emanated hate. It was a solid aura of black that surrounded him and she could feel him give into it. He looked at her like she was an insect and to him, she was.

The girl was nothing more than one of them. Those others that had caged him and abused him his entire life. She'd used him. She'd lied to him. And she would die for it. They all would. Though the wind was silent and it did not blow, he could hear its sibilant whisper. It used no words, no pictures. No images to illustrate its message. It was an almost calming presence in the back of his mind letting him know that it thought he was right. Telling him that the girl should die for her impudence, for daring to lie to him...for being so arrogant as to think she could fool him with her pretty eyes and her so-called kindhearted care of him. Nothing but vapid mendacity. Her obsequious and foolish deception wasn't going to go unpunished.

And the West wind urged him on. Yes, he would start with the Turk. He'd slaughter him before her eyes and then he'd turn his sword on her.

And after that...

After that...

His eyes darkened for a moment as his hand moved for his sword. Simultaneously, the Turk aimed and cocked his gun, his finger now carefully squeezing the trigger. The girl's head spun towards the sound. She shouted something unintelligible and flung her hand outwards. A shot rang out. Something drove into his chest. And he realized it was the girl. She'd caught him off guard, using a common street girl's technique. With a jab to the back of his knee, and a simple push to the chest, she'd taken him down. He fell and on his way down grabbed her, ready to wring the life out of her pretty little neck once things were settled. Bright yellow light erupted from her still outstretched hand. And he hit the ground, hard.

The thin layer of earth that had covered the temple's broken cobblestones had been washed away by the rain. So when she pushed him, his head hit naked brick rather than soft earth. Stars exploded behind his eyes and for a scant few seconds, the world was all black and white. He lay there for a good long time, his mind clouded and in pain. Not just from the sharp blow to the head but also from a strange and rather unnatural mental fog. It clawed at him. Howled its rage at him for his failure but what he'd failed at, he couldn't be sure. Though he was quite sure that he didn't like the way it felt. It pushed at him, trying to rekindle the flame of righteous fury he felt before. But he didn't quite feel angry anymore. Just tired. And sore.

There was something on top of him. Something soft. His eyes opened and through the haze of hurt and rain, he could see the vague form of the girl. She'd fallen on-top of him. He could see the crown of her head as it lay on his chest. Her dark brown hair was soaked with water and as she sat up, it plastered itself to her face. She moved her thick bangs back with one hand as she looked back, her mouth open as she panted with exhaustion. He watched the water dripping off her dark lashes to land on her cheek, driving downward to roll over her parted lips. She gulped air, and his eyes strayed from her mouth to her neck as she swallowed hard. And from her neck to her chest, which heaved with each shuddering breath.

Temptress...

She looked down at him briefly. Long enough to judge that he was out cold, or so she thought. And then she got up and walked away from him. He steeled himself for the expected. They'd drug him, restrain him and take him back. The Gods only knew whether or not this would be his last night alive. Perhaps they'd euthanize him like a good dog gone bad. He'd bitten his master after all and he had to be punished. Maybe they'd be less forgiving then that. Death for something like him was a mercy. No, they'd probably find all new tests to perform on him that would be even more painful for their newness. He'd likely be strapped to a table, never to see sun or sky again. His only friends the sweet release of unconsciousness and the drugs they'd give him.

To his complete and utter surprise, nothing like that happened.

His eyes opened slowly as his mind cleared and true consciousness was regained. He looked blindly upward, his eyes quickly narrowing to keep out the rain. Electric veins of lightening pumped illumination in ever spreading waves across the dark clouds that covered the sky in night. With thunder as its foreboding heartbeat, the storm raged above him, all purple and black. Every now and then, there would be a flash of light and just barely the world around him was defined for an instant. Until then, it was nothing but formless shapes and indistinct contours.

The mud beneath him squelched uncomfortably. There was a warm but agonizing pulse at the back of his head. Lifting a hand, he gently probed the area. He winced when he found the spot and when he drew his hand back it was red. Even in the driving rain, as it cleaned his hand of his own blood, it was red. The fall had injured him enough to break skin. He could only hope he didn't have a concussion. Lying on the cold ground wasn't doing him any good. Carefully, he pushed himself up, groaning and wincing as each and every ache in his body made itself known. His hand to his head, he looked around.

The West Wind was gone now and he didn't carry the same flame of vengeance that he had before, but he was still quite angry. And he wasn't quite sure whether or not he still wanted to kill the girl. The logical side of him argued that killing her, though distasteful, was probably for the best. When one required stealth, as he did, one could not leave witnesses. The less logical side of him argued, very heatedly, that he shouldn't kill her. She might be a traitor, but she was still a woman. Moreover, she was unarmed and clearly no match for him. Besides, what could she tell them that they didn't already know?

He'd by necessity have to kill most of the Turks here or at the very least incapacitate them. Which would be aggravating for him in of and of itself, because no doubt ShinRa would use it to their advantage. He was sure they'd have a pretty hefty bounty on him by morning, if they didn't already have one by now. ShinRa was nothing but shameless when it came to promoting its interests. He was sure their propaganda machine was working overtime to paint him in the worst possible light.

They had raised him up, and put him on a pedestal that he hadn't asked to be set on. He'd never wanted to be their god. Freedom. That's all he ever longed for. The only time he'd ever been free were the few years they'd allowed him to spend in an actual military school. That freedom had been snatched away once it was clear he was much too strong to mix with "normal" people. Once a caged animal gets a taste of true freedom, it longs for it ever afterward. It was a bitter thought, but he knew that's how they regarded him anyway. And it was the sad truth. It wasn't just the freedom to make his own choices he'd learned about. He learned that the way they treated him wasn't right. He learned that others didn't live that way.

The other boys at the military school had mothers and fathers. They had sisters, brothers, grandmothers, little baby cousins, uncles, aunts, and childhood friends. And all these people, whether related or not, loved them. They cared for them. Took care of each other. They grew up knowing these people. Depending on them.

Normal children were born into this world knowing these things.

They had homes to go along with their happy families. They had a place where they belonged, in more ways than one. Home. It was a word he used. One he'd thought he was familiar with until he heard others talk about their homes. Their homes were nothing like his. And if he didn't feel abnormal for not knowing his mother and father, knowing that his concept of home was wrong made this feeling more acute.

Home was a physical place for them. But it was also something that anchored them mentally and emotionally. Home was where their families were. Home was where they grew up. Home was a place of comfort and safety. Home was a place you could go back to where you were accepted.

He had none of these things. And as he quietly listened, the knowledge sank in that he was anything but normal. He wasn't like the other children, and the realization horrified and sickened him.

He wasn't normal. He was wrong.

Such a realization would be hard for a full grown man to take, but for an eight year old child it was devastating. And there was no one in the world that he could confide in to make things better.

As the days and months and years passed this knowledge of his wrongness ate at him. To the point that he could barely stand talking to other people, so he stopped talking as much, allowing the normals to brag about their great and perfect lives that they resented, devalued, and were wholly unappreciative of. But his annoyance with them and his envy didn't stop when he refused to speak because listening was even worse. So he stopped doing that too. He withdrew himself. Cocooning himself in his studies. When he wasn't studying, he was practicing to become a better killing machine. And when he wasn't doing that, he was alone and thinking.

While normal human beings laughed and loved and played, he thought. He thought about his life, which was a joke. He thought about all the various ways he wasn't like them and he wondered why. Why was he so different?

The first time he was actually brave enough to ask that question was when he was twelve, after he'd accidentally broken another cadet's arm. He hadn't meant to. They had been practicing holds and it was his turn. He'd done the same thing everyone else had but he forgot to watch his strength. Instead of simply immobilizing his partner, he'd snapped the bones in his partner's arm neatly in two.

They never answered his question. They just drugged him and stuck him back in his old cell. From that day forward, he was isolated from extraneous human contact. His only visitors were the scientists, his tutors, and his martial arts instructors.

Sure, he hadn't liked the other children while at the academy, but he had freedom there. He could see the sky. He could wander away and walk in the woods, feel the sun on his face if only for a few moments. And though he wasn't normal, didn't have a normal life, he yearned for it. He saw the happiness in the faces of his peers when talking about home and family, and he wanted that.

Yes, once you gave an animal freedom. Once you showed them what they were missing, they would never forget. And he hadn't.

Normal human beings only went to the doctor's when they were sick. And the doctor certainly never came to them. Never gave them tests they didn't ask for or really need. And if they did, those doctors always told them why. Real human beings knew their parents. They knew who they came from and where. Real human beings had a childhood. They laughed and played. They tried to count the stars in their mother's arms. They sat on their father's shoulders and wondered if they'd be so tall. They played silly little games with their stuffed animals. They didn't have swords shoved in their young hands by uncaring instructors who'd beat them if they weren't as perfect as they could be. They were given warm hugs and kisses. Human beings, real human beings didn't live in a sterile cell with no windows. They had locks on their doors, but not ones they themselves couldn't open.

Every-time they'd lock him back up in that cell he thought about that. Every single time the red light blinked over his door indicating the locks were engaged. Every single time he heard the giant bolts to the vault-like door to his cell click heavily into place. Every single, damn time they turned out the lights without waiting to see if he was in bed or even, in fact, sleepy. He knew. He couldn't forget. He remembered.

The only people who lived like this were prisoners and animals. He'd learned that and he knew what he was. They'd shown him. He was a prisoner to himself but an animal to them. No matter which one he actually was, part of him knew he was a bit of both. He wasn't normal. Wasn't fully human.

And everyone else in this world had a place in it but him because of that.

Again, he tasted freedom, and again it was going to be wrenched away from him. This time by the Turk and that awful little slip of a girl. If he managed to escape from this latest ShinRa engineered trap, he would be ensnared by the next one...or the one after that. And if he didn't fall to ShinRa, he'd fall to some would-be hero, looking to score the undoubtedly huge bounty on his head.

Sadly, he wanted to avoid such nuisances, and if he were to do that he'd have to keep a low profile. This would require a measure of stealth if he wanted to keep the bastards off his trail. And leaving a messy trail of bodies was in no way a very stealthy way of hiding one's path. So it was decided, he wouldn't kill the Turks. Just disable them, hopefully beating a speedy retreat. But the West Wind disagreed. It whistled through the trees, calling him coward for sparing his enemies. He swatted the wind away as he got to his feet, his eyes finding the girl's form in the dark. It was silhouetted by the rapidly blinking sky. Something was strange. She was walking around the clearing, bending down to pick something up, and then standing again. She'd paused, working the thing she'd picked up in her small hands. She'd then drop it and then throw whatever it was she'd taken from the item she'd dropped.

He must have hit his head very hard indeed. Then it suddenly occurred him what she was doing and what had happened or he could guess what had happened. Every single last Turk had been knocked out. He could see their limp bodies lying on the ground in-between flashes of lightening. Quietly, he approached one and kicked them in the chest. He groaned. Still alive. She'd put them to sleep. His gaze turned swiftly back to the girl, watching her motions carefully again. She was taking their weapons. Taking their weapons, ejecting their clips, emptying them and then throwing the bullets into the bushes, and his question of the day was why?

Wasn't she with them?

The West Wind whispered yes, but his gut said no. Some would be surprised to know that the Great General Sephiroth was a believer in following intuition. They probably believed all the ShinRa fabricated lies about him. That he was a cool, logical, killing machine, who'd murder his own mother for a gil. That he was without pity or mercy. There was a kernel of truth in those fabrications...but like anything so small it was insignificant. A half-baked generalization of his character, meant to grace the interior of promotional pamphlets and the fronts of tabloid magazines.

Yes, he followed his intuition quite often, and most times it was right.

She was disarming them which meant she probably wasn't with them. And the tone that had irritated him so much. Now that he really had time to think about it wasn't quite as friendly as he thought it to be. Yes, there was recognition. She had to know the Turk but her tone wasn't entirely welcoming. More like, surprised. Unpleasantly so.

She hadn't seen him yet and he imperceptibly melted into the shadows. He watched as she made her rounds, disarming the Turks one by one. It was rather boring. Except for one moment, when she paused and kicked one of the Turks square in the shin. She mumbled something under her breath about tree climbing not being fun before moving on to the next one.

So, she knew them but wasn't with them. Curious.

It made sense, though. If she were a research specimen, she'd have contact with them...lots of contact with them, seeing as she was an escaped research specimen. Though her familiarity with them was disconcerting, it was somewhat understandable. There was something more to it, but he was sure it wasn't what he feared.

His thoughts were abruptly terminated when he noticed she'd finished. The girl had returned to the spot he'd previously occupied. She looked down at the area with consternation, and then looked up. Her eyes traveled the horizon, not perturbed by the violent storm that raged around her. A bitter kind of smirk flickered across her face before disappearing into indifference.

"Who cares about him anyway..." She muttered to herself as she turned to leave, "...stupid, ungrateful jerk."

Lightening rolled across the sky, with thunder tumbling nosily after it. The rain pounded a bit harder and a bit colder. He'd heard everything she'd said and he wasn't sure if he was angry with her or amused. Maybe he was both. He was aggravated with her, because the longer he knew her, the more mysteriously perplexing she became. On the outside, she seemed so simple, so plain. But she was anything but.

The girl was a rather skillfully put together oil painting. At first glance, she didn't seem so special. It wasn't until you came a bit closer to the canvas to examine the brush work that you noticed what a work of art you had on you hands. Where there was flat color from far away. Close up, there was layer upon delicate layer. It made him wonder how the artist had fooled him so easily. He had underestimated this girl. Underestimated her greatly.

A mistake he was sure he wouldn't repeat.

She left the courtyard and moved towards a large pile of rubble that at one time had been stairs. He followed quietly behind. She made stumbling progress over the slick rubble, slipping more than occasionally. If he were inclined to find humor in things, he might have laughed at her. He knew her reaction to being laughed at would be priceless. His eyes softened a bit as he thought of the indignant face she might make.

They quickly hardened again with the quiet realization that he was becoming too fond of her. He quashed any remotely positive thoughts about her and focused on the perturbation she caused. Yes, she was a problem. A very large problem and a thorn in his side, and any reaction, no matter how amusing, would not sway his heart. Willing himself not to feel, he continued to watch her with detached bemusement, floating quietly over her while she struggled.

Ten minutes passed and she finally managed to climb her way up the fallen staircase. He waited for her on the other side, swimming in the shadows, watching to see what she was up to. This place that she wanted to take him to was quite strange. The other area was worn down to nearly to the foundations. They barely even qualified as ruins. Yet, here, on the other side of the staircase, everything seemed to be untouched by time.

He was surprised and a bit disturbed by this. The girl either didn't care or didn't notice. She walked across the pristine cobblestone courtyard with a determined gait, as if she knew where she was going. This courtyard was much larger than the one they exited and it had a bloody great tree smack in the middle of it. His eyes left the girl for a moment to look at the tree. It was the biggest tree he'd ever seen and though he wasn't easily impressed, he did have to spare a moment of awe as he gazed at it.

She walked up to the tree and put a hand on it. Stepping from the shadows, he quirked up an eyebrow and tilted his head. What in the world was she doing? Curious, he watched her for a few minutes. And as the minutes grew too long for his tastes, he became irritated. She didn't move from her spot. Her hand was firmly planted on the bark of the tree and she seemed to be talking to it. No, irritation wasn't a strong enough word for what he felt now. Why did she have to be such an enigma? What was she hiding?

Incensed. Yes, he was incensed by her mystery. Incensed that she was as abnormal and wrong as him, yet she seemed to accept it. He could tell by the smooth and confident way she did everything. As if she'd never in her life questioned why she was what she was. She wasn't like them. She clearly wasn't human but she acted as if she were. Yet she was like them, in that she didn't seem conflicted about her place in the world. It was...irksome. No, it was worse than irksome.

It was infuriating.

And the fact that he'd wasted so much time on her made him even angrier.

Why was he following her anyway?

Because before he left, he wanted to know. He had to know. Why was she the way she was? What the hell was she anyway? Yes, he was here because she owed him answers. She brought up too many questions and he wasn't willing to leave them unanswered. He came up behind her, sword drawn. It was as deadly as the lightening that illuminated it and he brought it up to rest at the side of her neck. He let it hover there, just touching her enough to let her know she wasn't alone. To let her know what danger she'd put herself in.

Ever the enigma, she didn't react as he expected her to. He made a memo to himself not to expect much from her in the future then. She didn't turn. She didn't even flinch. Her back straightened a bit and her head turned. An annoyingly mild reaction.

"So...you're still here."

"That I am." He replied, coldly, "I trusted you."

"Did you?"

He didn't answer her, annoyed that her question had pretty much hit the mark. Even if it was only implied. No, he didn't trust her. Not completely.

"Isn't this the part where you threaten me? Because if it is, I'd like to get it over with, it's been a busy night and I'm tired."

"No threats."

"Funny, you say that with a sword to my neck." She retorted, "Maybe you and the dictionary should have a little chat over the definition of what is and what is not a 'threat'."

"I have questions I want answered."

"And you think you'll find them at the point of a sword."

"People tend to be more honest when they're afraid for their lives."

"No, they tend to tell you whatever you want to hear, with the hope that you might spare their life." She fired back, sounding more amused than afraid, "A hope that I'm sure many have wished but few have been granted. Especially with someone like you."

"Oh, and you know me so well?"

"I know your kind. You're all alike. Cruel, heartless people who only think about themselves and what's good for them at the moment."

His eyes flashed and he snapped, "And you're so much better than me...from where I sit, you ARE no better. You're nothing more than a self-important, arrogant child."

"That saved your life...twice." She said, with a small triumphant smile, "Nice thank you by the way. I really appreciate the gesture, though I think this last part might be a bit lost on me..."

His lips tightened and his eyes narrowed. How like them she was. He should just kill her. It would be deliriously easy. She was just standing there so smugly, like she knew he wouldn't hurt her. He could. She knew he was capable of it; her nasty little snipe at him was evidence enough. He could just plunge his sword straight through her back right now, and she wouldn't be able to do a thing about it. The look of surprise on her face would almost be worth it. Mysteries like her shouldn't exist and the quieted wind within agreed. All he had to do was lift his sword and with the quick flick of his wrist...

The sword would fall and take the Madonna's life with its killing stroke. Then the blood would come, staining his hands with dark crimson that'd bleed until the end of the world. He saw her face as she turned and in that moment, she wasn't the annoying girl who'd saved his life. She was the woman he saw in that dream of his. The woman he watched his doppelganger kill time and time again. She was the death that haunted him. His sin if he were to take up his sword against her flesh.

Jade eyes widened as the vision passed, and in a choked whisper, he called what he thought in his confusion was her name, "Isolde..."

"Aeris." She stated, her clear voice broke through the haze of unnamed, un-owned memory.

Blinking the rain from his eyes, he stared at her dumbly for a beat.

"What?"

"It's my name is Aeris...not Isolde. Aeris."

His eyes narrowed, looking down his nose at her, he said as disdainfully as possible, "I don't care."

"I'm sure you don't." She stated, bluntly, "Are we done here?"

"Not even remotely." He sneered, pushing the sword a bit closer to her flesh to prove his point.

It was absurd, but he wanted her to turn around and look at him. Talking without being able to see her expressions was disconcerting. He wanted to see her fear, her anger...but especially...he especially wanted to see that innocently arrogant smile of hers. The one that was sweet and sour at the same time. With her back to him, she was in control. She pulled the strings. She held all the cards. But if she faced him, he would be in control.

Forgetting that she'd stared him down before and hadn't cowered in terror. Forgetting, for the moment, that though she looked human, she was in many ways, very different, just like him. His biggest mistake, however, was that he forgot that he wasn't the one in control...ever. That others always seemed to pull his strings, and the girl was no exception. She was in control, at the moment anyway. He'd walked into a situation he was patently not prepared for.

She chose that moment to turn and gaze at him with eyes so green they became bottomless. The look on her face held a stern warning, telling him that he should back off. Despite her playful words and back talk, she looked quite serious. Her mouth had thinned, giving her an overall grave appearance that was contrary to her nature.

"I think we are done..." She said softly but with a tinge of menace that surprised him. "...and I think you need to lower that sword right now."

"You presume to tell me what to do?" He scoffed, not in the least bit impressed by her bravery, "You are quite the little firebrand, aren't you?"

She didn't acknowledge the question, repeating, "Lower your weapon, General. It's not a request."

"No." He said, flatly, "I think it's time you started answering some questions."

At that precise moment a bolt of lightening hit the ground with such a thunderous crack that it shook the earth beneath them. The wind picked up, howling distantly through the trees, which began to sway as the storm gathered strength. Lightening began to strike the ground continuously and it lit the courtyard with a dangerous kind of beauty that was wild and wholly untamable. It illuminated the girl who was like the lightening and the storm. Wild. Untamable. Free. Never to be caged by anyone or anything. An aura suffused her. Connected her with the wildly swaying tree behind her. He could hear the sounds of things moving through the forest. At first he assumed it was ShinRa or perhaps a rather large herd of deer. But then lightening struck again and he saw.

It was the trees and the shrubs. They'd moved and began to grow around each other by her command, making the way into this courtyard impassible. The stairs she'd used to traverse here were uprooted by wicked looking thorn bushes that erupted abruptly from the soil. All around, the forest was moving and growing to protect this place. And all of it was done at her command. He could sense the immense aura of magic around her. It was her own, but it also belonged to the great tree behind her. The same bloody great tree that was currently swaying dangerously above him, its large limbs undulating in warning.

He heard a crack that came from above and a dark shape fell from the canopy. It fell and landed right next to him with a loud thud. At first, he'd taken it for a branch broken by the storm. A coincidence, nothing more. But when the branch lifted back up to join its brothers, he was left to gape at it like a fish. His rain wetted hair was pushed back slightly and even he couldn't hide the obvious surprise on his face. The tree creaked and groaned again, lit by the ever striking lightening. And he stepped back a bit. Not afraid exactly...but wary.

Nervously, he still held the girl at the point of his sword and he looked from her, to the tree, back to his sword. No way was he going to quail in fear in front of this girl. He wasn't going to shake in his boots just because she could summon nature itself to attack him. Narrowing his eyes dangerously, he held up the sword with a firm resolve that would show her...

"If I were you, I'd put the sword down..." She said, gently, like she was speaking to a child, "I can't control it." Gesturing back to indicate the tree, "But it has agreed to protect me...if you threaten my life, it will kill you and I'd rather not be responsible for that. If you really want your questions answered, I'll gladly do so." And as she spoke she moved forward, pushing the sword's blade away from her neck with her hand, "..But not here. We should leave. ShinRa is still here...and I'm a bit tired of being wet."

He didn't know why he let her do that but he did. She just... His face struggled with emotion as he looked down at her, his sword lowering until it was at his side. She smiled enigmatically and took his hand, leading him over to the large tree that had threatened him. Placing it on the gnarled bark, she covered his hand with her own. Warmth radiated from her hand to his. This connection between them became a lightening rod, and he could feel the magic as it passed.

It came from that ancient tree, funneling itself through her into him and for the first time in his life he felt as if he belonged. He felt at peace and even more startling than that, he didn't mind feeling it. There was no struggle on his part, even though he knew that this moment was fleeting. He just enjoyed it, without feeling the need to push it aside. And just as predicted, the moment was fleeting but he was strangely glad that it HAD happened.

The girl looked up at him tiredly; her deep green eyes sparkling wearily. She said nothing, just smiled as she let her hand slip from his. The tree had stopped moving and as he looked up at it, he wondered if the last few moments had been some kind of hallucination. Maybe he really did hit his head too hard, and unconsciously he checked the back of his head. It was still tender but not bleeding as badly anymore.

He was almost convinced, until he spotted the large crater next to him. In the exact spot the tree's limb had struck. Sheathing his sword, he watched the girl as she walked away from him. She didn't even wait to see if he'd follow. There was no question, no leading statement to indicate she expected as much. She just walked away as if he was of no consequence to her. It vaguely irritated him but not enough to goad him into rash action.

The girl, Aeris. She was an enigma.

Human and inhuman at the same time. A perplexing mystery.

But was she worth following? She'd distracted the ShinRa. He could leave right now. Turn his back on their alliance. He'd always seen it as temporary. The wind urged him to leave, but who was he to follow it? It had urged him to kill her, and where had that got him? Nearly crushed by a bloody great tree. Besides, whatever power the wind could offer paled in comparison with her. It feared her and he wanted to know why. She seemed to fear nothing and he wanted to know why. There were many questions and she'd promised answers.

Beyond his need for knowledge, his need to know why. He wanted to follow her, because she intrigued him. Because she was a problem that needed an immediate solution. Because he wanted to know if she felt like he did. Because he wanted to, and he needed no other reason than that to walk forward.

And walk forward he did, following the girl into the impossible dark, not caring for a moment that he didn't even know their destination.

Only knowing that this was what he wanted. This was his choice and his choice alone. Not ShinRa's. Not the wind's. It was his own...by his own free will he followed her.

Because he was free.

Author's Notes

HOLY CRAP! Two updates in...however many days or whatever! Yeah, I've heard your pleas and updated this fic! HURRAH FOR PEOPLE NOT STONING ME!

In any event, I hope you like this new chapter. I worked pretty hard on it. Not much to say about the chapter in question, other than...YAY! I updated. Um. I know I'll probably get a couple of Ent comments with this chapter, what with all the trees doing things in this chapter like they do. Yeah, I couldn't resist. I had this image in my head for the longest time and I just had to get it out.

Also, for those of you on live journal and for that matter, for those of you who aren't...I created a update community journal thing for my stories! (Specifically for my non-Single Spark works...i.e.--my final fantasy stories.) This is in addition to the weird little writing journal I have at greatest journal...excecpt here you can interact with me more directly if you have a live journal yourself! Hell, you don't even have to like my stories to join. Just join and talk about crap. I don't give a shit!

In any event, I created it and I'll post when I plan to update stuff! I'll also probably post some in the mind of Noa stuff. You know, if you are interested in knowing how I come up with stuff and my thoughts and opinions about writing and what not. And if you subscribe today, you also get the neat bonus of chapter previews! But only if you join!

I'm such a feeb.

Anyhoot, go there now and check out what I might update next! Hope all my American readers have a happy fourth! (This of course includes me, though I'm not really a reader of my stuff because I write it...but I guess since I do write it, I read it and therefore could be techincally considered a reader...but anyway, I'm American and so are some of you. Happy Fourth of July!) Everyone be careful and don't blow your hands off! That'd make me sad!

Ciao

Noa