More writing direct to pc. Done while re-watching a fan sub of full metal alchemist and a bit of Wolf's Rain, so it's of debatable quality. Still, here is where things really start to get interesting.

Leon's PoV

I settled into school fairly quickly, and the time passed happily enough for me. I even managed not to fight too much with Cloud, which pleased Damian. Something was… off… about Damian, though. He smiled less, and there was a hint of sorrow in his expression even when he smiled. I resolved to watch him more carefully.

Myself, I was having problems of my own. It was rolling around to late October, and the cooler weather was bringing back strikingly unpleasant memories, as was the faint smell of wood smoke. I had met Anni on a day much like this, not long before Halloween.

She had been standing on the street corner in the rain, looking up at the sky with a calm, pleasant expression on her face, her long auburn hair blowing in the wind. I remembered being struck by the childlike wonder on her face; the innocent, unaware beauty that she seemed to radiate. I had gone over and looked at her, and she had introduced herself with a light chuckle. I remembered thinking what a pretty name she had. Anni. I had given her my name, and we had gone for coffee in a little place called the Green Moon café. One thing had led to another, and, well… I didn't want to dwell on it. But the cooler weather had brought all the memories closer to the surface, raw and fresh.

I headed out of the library where I had been studying with Damian, Yuffie, and Cloud. I was restless, I felt trapped and confined. Outside didn't help, either; the wind was blowing and the sky overcast, mocking me. I stalked over towards the athletic fields and pulled myself up to the top of the bleachers. That was marginally better, away from all the happy chatter of people without two brain cells to rub together. The sound of quiet footfalls on the metal made me glance down; Cloud was climbing the bleachers, looking a little worried.

"Are you alright?" He asked. I pulled a bitter grin.

"I'll survive." He didn't look satisfied by that answer, so I added, "Go away." Fairly typically, he didn't listen, just kept coming.

"Make me." His answer was soft, and strong but not aggressive.

"Maybe I should." It came out a harsh growl.

"Perhaps." There was an undercurrent to his speech, almost provocative. All my pent-up restlessness found an outlet at once, and I took a swing at him. He dodged lightly, nearly falling of the slick metal bleachers, but catching his balance quickly. "So." His tone was even and utterly, completely neutral.

I was struck in the side the next instant, by a kick almost too fast to see. When I cleared the haze from my eyes, Cloud was standing on the same level as me, about three feet away, with his face giving no clues to his thoughts. I punched towards his chest, but he dodged and it glanced along the side of his face instead. Cloud was still knocked back, but he recovered quicker than I thought possible and threw a punch of his own. I caught it in my left hand, and returned the gift with my right—hitting him in the chest and knocking him clean over.

He lifted his head and looked at me, with a grin that turned into a wince. I stood, breathing hard, and looked at my fist with something that was neither shock nor regret, but still bore no resemblance to satisfaction. I realized, dimly, that I was now feeling very much better. Part of my mind commented sarcastically that I should fight Cloud more often, and my hand dropped to rub the place where he'd kicked me. That couldn't have been his best kick; it barely stung now. I offered him my hand. Cloud looked at it for a long moment, as though not sure whether it was a joke or a rotten trick. Still, he took it, and I pulled him to his feet. Oddly enough, he grinned, wryly, as though seeing a joke I had missed.

"Feeling better?" He asked. His tone, neutral before, was now warm with affection and gentle humor. It didn't make sense. But I did, feel better. It looked like he had known that better than I.

"I guess." It was grudging, but I did answer him.

"Good." Cloud nodded, apparently satisfied, and we walked back into the library together. When we arrived, Damian and Yuffie both looked at us oddly. I glanced at Cloud, and realized how disheveled he looked, with a bruise rising where I had hit him. I hadn't exactly held back, and I had a sneaking suspicion that I looked almost as bad. Still, neither of them asked, and the bell chimed at that moment.

I didn't see Cloud again until after school, and the bruise on his face was starting to look really nasty. He was unlocking his bike, and I almost went over to talk to him, but something held me back. I just, honestly, had no idea what to say to him. So I waited until he got on his bike and rode off, then got in my car and headed home myself.

The day had cleared up a bit, and was now almost painfully sunny. Even this late in October, it was hot. The sun was coming in the glass door with a vengeance, even through the thick curtains, and I felt oddly tired. I wasn't really sure why. Damian had work; he often seemed too, these days, but that wasn't really surprising. I missed him; it seemed we never got to spend time together, lately. I flopped on my bed and stared at the ceiling, tracing patterns on the blank white spread with my eyes. I must have drifted off like that, because I dreamed. Dreams like I hadn't had in a long time.

I dreamed of Her, as I had so often after she died. Sometimes her eyes were clear and bright, without the madness that had infected them. This time, they weren't. She was standing on a road, a fine layer of dust over shined black boots and blue jeans, wearing a shirt that hadn't been in style since before the fall of Rome. In her hands was a small dagger, about the length of my hand from pommel to tip. It too, was archaic, with a hilt fashioned to resemble some strange monster's head.

She was looking at me, and grinning, something somehow wrong with the expression. In the dream, I didn't recognize it, and I walked towards her. She hugged me hard, and then pulled away. Neither of us spoke; I just hugged her back, and then froze as she pulled open my button-down shirt. I stood paralyzed, unable to move, as she brought the knife to my neck, then lowered it to my collarbone. I still could not move as she drew the blade across my skin, drawing blood where I would later sport the very palest of scars.

I knew this, in my dream; I hadn't then, and I tried to fight, tried to get away, but I only stood their, unable to move, as Anni brought her lips to the wound and kissed the blood away.

The scene changed quickly, and I was back on the hillside in the park, looking at the cliff that would later be named 'suicide point'. The madness was even stronger in her eyes, though her outfit was modern now. A pair of black jeans and a blood red tank top, her long hair too tangled to flow behind her in the breeze.

She stood barefoot, the bare rock cutting into her feet, but she either didn't notice or didn't care. I remembered her, back when all of this was real, asking me, wasn't the sky so lovely today? The wind had tugged on her hair and clothes, and she had reveled in it. I knew what was going to happen, but once again I couldn't move. I was trapped playing out the scene again, as I had once in real life, and many times more in my dreams.

She stood perched on the edge of the cliff, and in one swift motion… she dove. She seemed to hang in the air forever, her arms spread like a bird to fly away, and once again, I could only watch. I had called 9-11 of course, and they had looked for her, but it was more token than anything. No one could survive that fall. Yet, when I had told them, I had left out one important detail; I had said only that she fell. I had never told anyone of Anni's madness.

Later, I had written a poem about it, trying the only way I knew how to ease the memory. The poem had somehow wound up in the hands of one of Yuffie's friends, and he had turned it into the song, Suicide Point, that was an instant local sensation. Everyone knew the spot in the song, with a broken wooden sign that just read 'north'. Now all anyone called the place was Suicide Point, and it was more Anni's grave than the cenotaph in the back of the graveyard. They had never found the body. It seemed more fitting that way.

I woke with a start, trembling slightly. It was just after sunset, and the twilight was trickling in between the curtains. I pushed them aside and went out, welcoming the heat. All of me felt cold, and I couldn't stop shivering. It had been a long time since the dreams had been so bad. I leaned on the iron railing, staring at nothing.

Suddenly, I was struck with the impulse to just move, to get away from everything. I knew exactly where I would go, too. I swung over the balcony and landed jarringly. It wasn't the best of ways to get down, but mom would be home and I didn't want to have to explain. I ignored the car, but grabbed from the garage the bike I'd gotten years ago. It was a touch small, but when I raised the seat it was fine, so I took off. Near the park was a cart that sold flowers, even in Phoenix's dry heat. I bought some, dark red roses that She had always loved. The woman at the cart smiled at me; it wasn't the first time I had bought flowers here for Anni, though never before she died.

I chained my bike at the entrance to the park and walked quickly up the hill, up to the rocky place called Suicide Point. Thankfully, the fading twilight changed the place, dulling the still-painful memories. This was one of the ways I eased the guilt; leaving flowers for her here, her real grave. I took the roses, one at a time, and dropped them into the river, all but one. That last I lay on the ground, just at the tip of the rock spur.

"Rest well, Anni." I walked away without looking back, but the memory of that place was forever etched in my mind. Just as clearly as in my heart.