Author's Note: Disclaimer found below.

Longer chapter... In the home stretch now, so to speak...

(Twelve)

Drifting, drifting...

Flowers. Flowers, as far as the eye could see. Tifa breathed deep, wanting to keep the delicate scent as long as she could. She was sure that it wouldn't last.

She sat among the flowers with the side of her face resting on her knees, arms draped loosely around her legs. She stared at the far horizon, where the myriad colors of the flowers blended with the surrounding white to form a gray line. Everything was gray, if you stood far enough away, or stared long enough. Everything would fade away into gray nothing.

"No giving up now," Aeris gently chided, sitting at her back.

Tifa gave a miserable sigh, hiding her face. "I'm sorry."

"It's not too late." With the softest touch, arms encircled Tifa's waist, and she felt the pressure of her friend resting against her back, chin on her shoulder. "There's still time. Besides, he needs you."

Tifa took a breath, raising her head. "What do you -"

Everything changed. Tifa gave a startled cry, eyes flying open, as she realized that there were hands at her face.

Denzel's hands. She was slouched in the passenger side of the truck, and Denzel was kneeling on the seat, a wet cloth in his hands. He'd been holding it to her forehead.

Kadaj was driving, and spared a glance in her direction. "Hnh," he shrugged. "Thought you weren't coming back."

Tifa blinked, then stared at him wide-eyed. She remembered riding with Loz, feeling warm, becoming aware of a growing ache in her midsection...

The ache was still there - but not as bad as it had been the last she remembered. She lay her hand on her stomach, felt the slickness under her fingers, and didn't bother to look. Her shoulders slumped.

Denzel hovered over her, bringing the cloth to her face again, but she pushed him away. "Fever's broken," she murmured with a tired sigh.

He sat back, and she realized that though he was silent, he was looking up into her face with his own, round-pupiled eyes. His brow was furrowed, but eyes wide - he was frightened.

"It'll be okay, Denzel," she automatically whispered, trying to relax and giving him a weak smile.

Kadaj glanced at her again. "That's enough, boy," he muttered.

Denzel's features relaxed, eyes shifting in color for a moment as he settled back to sit properly and face forward.

Tifa frowned with helpless distress. "Kadaj... Why are you doing this? What are you going to do to these kids? They never did anything to you..."

He tilted his head slightly and smiled in a way that was neither warm nor pleasant. "We need their help to find Mother," he told her. "Oh, don't worry. We're on our way back to Midgar. And then..." He chuckled, amused at something that Tifa could only guess at. "And then we'll... we'll let them go..."

His laughter reminded her of... another's. And she didn't want to think about it.

She stared at the road unfolding ahead of the truck for a few minutes, trying to put that disturbing laughter from her mind. She squinted against the glare of full daylight... and suddenly realized that something was missing. She looked in the rear-view mirror, then over her shoulder through the back window of the cab as well. There were only the still, mindless children to see there.

The truck was alone on the road. "Wh..." She wondered at herself for even asking, but the idea of being alone with Kadaj suddenly seemed even less attractive than she'd imagined. "Where are..."

"They went off-road a while ago," Kadaj shrugged, answering the half-formed question. "They'll catch up."

She settled as much as she could, leaning her head against the doorframe. She reached out and took Denzel's hand in hers. He was unresponsive now, but she hoped that he could feel it anyway.

Her mind wandered as the miles melted away. What Loz had told her made sense, to an extent. They were body, mind, and soul - the soul least stable, but directing the other two. The mind rational and cold, and distant from all but his brothers. The body living in the Now, less complicated, inseparable from the others... but ruled by physicality...

I'm not thinking about this. She closed her eyes. Thinking about it meant accepting it. If these three weren't clones, but were actual physical manifestations of Sephiroth's Will, cast out by the Lifestream... how could he ever be defeated? He'd just keep coming back...

...Except that Kadaj and Yazoo and Loz were very different from Sephiroth in one regard: whereas Sephiroth was alone, they had each other.

It was too much to think that this three-fold incarnation might be some kind of redemption for Sephiroth. But perhaps that was why the Lifestream had set them free... perhaps in several more iterations, after several more deaths, he - they - could begin to understand...

If they had only each other to obsess over, instead of Jenova's remains and Reunion...

It was better to believe that, than to believe that Sephiroth was simply strong enough to leave the Lifestream if he wanted, even if only in pieces.

The sound of another engine coming around the truck distracted her. Tifa couldn't bring herself to sit up any further - trying only caused a stab of pain from the Geostigma - but she turned her head, and saw Loz pull up alongside. He saw her, gave her a broad and openly relieved smile, and dropped back to ride behind the truck again. On the truck's far side, Yazoo pulled around to take up point in front.

"It's about time," Kadaj muttered, eyes narrow. "We're nearly there."

They pulled to a stop on a barren bluff well away from the city, on its northern side. The wind here was strong; the sky was going overcast again, with clouds sweeping in from the ocean.

Huddled in the corner of the truck, Tifa found that she couldn't even lift her hand to brush her hair back from her face. She felt so tired that she could only rest where she was, with her left hand wrapped around Denzel's.

Kadaj got out of the truck and slammed the door, and walked around in front of it to stand between his brothers on their motorcycles. He spoke to them, but between wind and distance, Tifa couldn't hear what was said.

Loz turned to look back at her, then said something to Kadaj, his attitude submissive again. He was asking something.

Yazoo glanced back at her as well, most of his face hidden by his hair streaming in the wind. He made eye contact with her, but she couldn't see his expression. His eyes didn't seem to carry quite the hatred they had before. Perhaps something closer to acceptance... but there was no warmth for her there.

Finally, Kadaj nodded to Loz, who swiftly dismounted and walked back toward the truck, coming around to the passenger side.

"Hey," he addressed her softly, almost hesitantly resting one hand over the open window. "Can you walk?"

Tifa looked away from him without answering. Denzel sat statue-still next to her, dull eyes forward. She gave his cold hand a gentle squeeze, but there was still no response.

"Tifa?"

She didn't really mean to ignore him - it simply seemed to be too much effort to answer. But it didn't seem worth annoying him, either. The frightening tone of voice that he used when she'd frustrated him... haunted her. She didn't want to hear him like that again.

"I don't know," she whispered, staring at Denzel's auburn hair ruffling in the wind.

He was silent for a moment. From the corner of her eye, Tifa watched Kadaj and Yazoo. Yazoo had twisted on the seat of his motorcycle to watch, and Kadaj had his arms folded, looking away. There was something impatient to the boy's bearing...

Loz finally seemed to reach a decision. "I'll carry you," he said, immediately unlatching the door.

Tifa turned to him in surprise, though even that reaction seemed to be slowed. "What?"

"I'll carry you," he repeated, leaning inside. "Come on. Kadaj said that I could take you home. You'll have to tell me how to get there."

She blinked as he reached around her, but lifted her free arm enough to lay it across his shoulders as he picked her up. "Wait," she managed. "Denzel -"

"No," Loz responded, pulling her away. "Just you."

Tifa reluctantly released the boy's hand, which fell limp onto the seat, fingers curled as though he still held her. Denzel never even blinked. She simply didn't have the strength to try to help him, much less herself...

It occurred to her that she should say good-bye to him, but Loz had her out of the truck too quickly. She decided against speaking, using her energy to wrap her other arm around Loz as well.

She wondered if this was what it was like for Denzel, on those days that his fever was worst, when he couldn't get out of bed at all even after the fever broke.

She wondered if - when - Cloud felt this way, and thought of how terrible a fate it was for him to face this strange physical apathy alone. If he'd just said something... If he'd still even cared enough to let her care for him...

Home. Loz was going to take her home. Let her go.

Well, of course he was. She was dying. There wasn't much else he could do to her. He'd even known it would happen, that she'd be hit so hard and fast by Geostigma like this... He'd known that he was killing her.

She wondered how many other women he'd killed this way. Just played with for a day or two until they died of what he gave them.

With her head nestled against his neck, she raised her eyes. Yazoo was still watching with cold eyes, head tilted to one side, lips set in a thin line.

Probably none. This fate was for her alone, if Yazoo's reaction to her was any indication.

"I don't think I can ride with you," she said belatedly, wondering at how weak her voice sounded. "I don't think I can hang on."

"It's okay. I'll hold you."

He reached the motorcycle and swung one leg over, cradling her in his lap as he started the bike with one hand. Next to them, Yazoo only watched unblinking and still. His hands were slack on the handlebars, but the wind whipped his hair toward them, as though it were reaching out.

Kadaj stepped past them to the edge of the bluff, his back to them, speaking without turning. "Be quick, Loz."

"Hn." He nodded, and they were off, down the steep slope toward Edge, the remaining life on the outskirts of a dead city.

Kadaj and Yazoo were silent for a long moment, watching. Then Yazoo spoke. "I don't want him to go."

Kadaj's voice was, if anything, more strained than Yazoo's. "It's his decision."

"All she does is make him hurt," Yazoo whispered darkly. "She's taking him away from us. I'm... afraid..." He swallowed, staring at the motorcycle now crawling across the plain below. "I'm afraid that he won't come back."

"We have to trust him," Kadaj said gently, moving closer and touching his brother's arm. "Who can we trust, if not each other?"

Yazoo hung his head and leaned into the touch. "Still hurts."

"I know."

"Mother will forgive him, won't she?"

Kadaj turned his head, taking in his brother's expression, eyes large and concerned. Afraid, when nothing else could frighten him. He slipped his arm around Yazoo's back, offering comfort. "Mother accepts her. That's why it's all right." He glanced back to the far-off motorcycle. "I wonder... if she might even become Mother. Perhaps instead of... becoming one, we'll... all fight together..."

Yazoo raised his head - he'd never heard his brother conjecture so before. "Without... Sephiroth?"

His younger brother shrugged, looking away. "It doesn't matter. It's up to her."

He suddenly turned back and smiled, the wind blowing his hair away from his face, revealing the excited gleam in his eyes. "Mother is close. Let's go. I'll get your bike from where we hid it, so we'll be ready..."

Yazoo nodded and dismounted, allowing Kadaj to have the motorcycle again. His own had been hidden in Midgar the entire time. "I'll wait in the square for Loz," he acknowledged, walking back toward the truck.

His jaw tightened when his back was turned to Kadaj. No matter how long I have to wait...

"Here."

Loz pulled up in front of 7th Heaven, shutting down the bike. The street seemed to be mostly deserted, though there was no apparent reason - this time of day, it was usually bustling. It occurred to her that it was probably because the bar wasn't open. The few people that were in the street gave them a wide berth, apparently intent on minding their own business.

Tifa rested her forehead against his neck, comfortable in his warmth. She felt a bit better - she could tell that she was regaining her strength. Perhaps this particular attack from the Geostigma wouldn't be the last after all. But she wasn't going to tell him that...

He carried her inside easily - the front door had been left unlocked, but then, it was well known in the area what happened to intruders, given who lived there. Even if they weren't there, some of the neighbors generally kept an eye on the place.

Daylight streamed into the still, empty room within. There was no sound of children, no sound of Cloud in the back working on his bike... Nobody was there at all.

"Just set me down," Tifa whispered. She hung on to him as tightly as she could so as to not slip when he bent to leave her at one of the booths next to the front door. A last moment of resting against him, breathing heat and leather, and then he'd released her, and her arms slipped away from him.

She lay her arms on the table and bent forward, resting her head there. Her eyes drifted shut.

"You'll know, when the Reunion comes," he told her, tilting his head and stroking her hair. "You'll feel it. You'll know where to go." He took a deeper breath, straightening, his hand falling away from her. "I'll wait for you, if I can."

He moved away, toward the door, but stopped with his hand on the handle and looked to her again. "I'm... I'm sorry. I wish there was time..." He paused, as though he wasn't sure how to put into words what he wanted to say.

"I wish I could've done this right, so we could've been together."

For a long moment both of them were still and silent. Then he turned away, closing the door behind him rather than letting it slam as Cloud always seemed to. She heard the motorcycle start again and quickly move away, the sound disappearing in a matter of seconds.

Tifa hid her face in her arms, hiding from the light. She tried to think of herself as free, but the only word that came to mind was alone.

She should be relieved, she thought. But she didn't feel it. She felt like crying might be an option, too, but that wasn't happening, either. What was wrong with her?

She could think of a few things.

It had only been the night before last, she reminded herself. It had only been a day and a half ago that he'd taken what he wanted from her. She hadn't even known him long enough to have any real idea of who he was.

"But you still want him," a chilling voice announced from one of the tables nearby.

Tifa stiffened, then slowly raised her head, eyes wide. Sephiroth sat at a table, legs propped up on an extra chair. He seemed to be completely at ease, smirking, watching her.

"No," she whispered.

"Yes," Sephiroth smiled, full of malice. "He wants you, you want him back. What's your problem?"

Tifa swallowed, sitting back, unwilling to take her eyes from the monster that had now invaded her home. "More to it than that," she muttered, wondering why she was having this conversation.

"Why?" Sephiroth swung his legs down, leaning forward like a predator scenting blood. "What more do you need? You know it's true." He was openly grinning now, a cruel and mocking undertone to his voice.

"You aren't even here," Tifa reminded herself. "You're not real. You're a hallucination. You're just - you're just these damn Jenova cells I'm stuck with now, trying to get me to - to go back to them."

The grin slipped away. He stood, scowling now, and kicked the chair that he'd been resting his feet on. It clattered into another table and chairs across the room. "Tell me I'm not real again," he taunted, his voice cold.

Tifa cringed as he approached her, knowing full well that, hallucination or not, he was perfectly capable of hurting her. Her body was killing itself as it tried - and failed - to get rid of the alien cells that had invaded her; she was in no position to resist him...

He suddenly had her arm, hauling her to her feet, glowering at her for a moment. His eyes were so much more frightening than any of the brothers'...

And then he shoved her onto her back on the table. Tifa could only stumble and fall back as he moved her.

Sephiroth moved to stand between her limply dangling legs, pinning her arms down at the wrists, and leaned over her. He tilted his head to one side, his hair falling over his shoulder. "Why are you fighting?" he asked, as though he really didn't understand. It echoed of the way Loz might ask such a thing.

Tifa turned her head aside; it really didn't matter what he did to her. She focused on the way the light coming through the window gleamed on his silver hair. Were all hallucinations this detailed?

His voice turned cold. "Answer me, Tifa." He pushed against her - she was certain that he was merely trying to provoke her. Her lips tightened, teeth clenched.

"You were always so helpful," he murmured, leaning closer to her, his tone warm and mocking again. "Guiding me to Mother... returning my sword to me - foolish to try to attack me with it... sealing Cloud in those half-true memories of his, helping him realize that he was mine and mine alone... You truly do belong..."

Tifa closed her eyes. "Shut up."

Even without looking, she could tell that his smile widened. Why couldn't she just keep her mouth shut? He pushed against her again, leaning close enough to lick along her jaw. She gritted her teeth.

"Why are you here, instead of where you belong?" He whispered in her ear.

She took as deep a breath as she could with him pressing down on her. "Go away."

"You should be with him."

"Go away."

"He loves you."

She squeezed her eyes shut more tightly, scowling and curling her hands into fists. "Doesn't know how any better than you do."

Sephiroth laughed softly. "Open your eyes." He let go of one arm, bringing his gloved hand up to lay across her exposed midriff. The Geostigma didn't hurt where he touched it - it burned as though she were being cut with a blade of ice.

Tifa screamed and kicked, contacting nothing, arching her back and pushing against him in desperation. Her free hand found his throat and clamped down, but she didn't have the strength to try to strangle him.

She remembered catching Loz by the throat, shoving him against the wall...

She remembered the way he'd looked at her that morning, perfectly aware that she didn't want him to touch her and not letting that knowledge even slow him down. And then he'd had the audacity to try to make her enjoy it.

"I wish I could've done this right, so we could've been together."

He'd known. He'd known exactly what he was doing to her the entire time, and he'd played her, pushed her to breaking, controlled her...

"You know how to find him," Sephiroth murmured, his voice a purr against her hand at his throat.

She shoved upward, pushing him back, opening her eyes and glaring. With flexibility that he didn't seem to expect, she brought her legs up, catching her boots against his shoulders and kicking as hard as she could.

Sephiroth flew back from the blow, and she heard him fall among the tables and chairs with a loud clatter as she flipped upright. But when she looked...

There was nothing there. The room was empty and undisturbed, not a bit of furniture displaced.

"Told you. Hallucination," she muttered, blue-green and slitted eyes narrowing against the blazing light.

She was struck with a sudden loathing for this pathetic place, filled with the scent of stale spilled alcohol and dust and garbage. It was constructed from pieces gleaned from the dying city itself, and as such, was falling apart even as it had been built. She hated it. It was better to hate. Hate gave power, made things happen.

This place was decay itself. It was no wonder that she'd broken, when this was all she had to cling to. It housed nothing but miserable people visiting to find oblivion in drink, and false families there to hurt each other.

Hurt. Hurt was good. She was going to hurt him.

She could feel him. All three of them, nearer to each other now. It wouldn't be difficult to find them.

She licked her lips, then moved forward, sure of her purpose. A table in the way was flipped aside, crashing into and breaking a few of the rickety chairs.

There. The back room, the office. In the closet behind the desk, beneath a box of receipts - she flung the box aside, contents spilling, and pulled out the metal chest beneath.

She opened and dug through the chest until she found what she wanted - her Premium Heart. She left the chest where it was, pulling on the gauntlets as she stood.

She caught sight of her reflection in the glass of a framed photograph on the desk. It would take getting used to, this face with these eyes. Not that it mattered.

If it was what she needed in order to succeed in her task, so be it.

She turned and made her way out, nearly knocking the front door from its hinges as she flung it open.

Nothing would stand between her and Loz, and anyone or anything that tried would suffer the same fate that she had in store for him.

A few minutes after Tifa disappeared, moving toward the square, another motorcycle pulled up in front of 7th Heaven. And Cloud and Marlene could only wonder what had happened inside.

Disclaimer: Final Fantasy VII, its story, and characters are the property, copyright and trademark of Square Electronic Arts L.L.C., and no ownership or claim on said property, copyright or trademark is made or implied by their use in the work(s) of fan fiction presented here. This fan fiction constitutes a personal comment on the aforesaid properties pursuant to doctrines of fair use and fair comment. This fan fiction is non-commercial, not for sale or profit, and may not be sold or reproduced for commercial purposes.