Hello hello! I hate AP Chemistry. And AP Physics. This chapter is... not unified, but it's a semi-important chapter. So please, bear with me.

RaspberryPolarBear - can I marry you? lol. You've been reviewing so faithfully and steadfastly that I'm nearly in tears of joy. :-P I'm v. v. glad that you're still interested... because another fic is hatching and this one revolves around Sephiroth, and as soon as I'm done with this series I'm going start on that one. That doesn't mean I'm bored, but I just wanted to say I'm glad you're still interested.

toyBOX - Yes, that's it, no more. I was going to write a story about how Reno's middle-aged and old and everything, then realized that for the love of God I couldn't imagine him with white hair. So I abandoned that idea. I got Advent Children, but I already downloaded the movie before the DVD came out... yey Reno. I wanna be the kid, you know, who sticks his/her hand up his nose. Then I can brag to people that I stuck my finger up his nose. haha.

Princess-Starr - Haha, thanks. There will be some sex scenes later, I promise! Not too explicit though, because I don't want to look like an idiot. (well, not more than now, at least.) It's around this time that the second Seventh Heaven is opening, so I might add that place too... dunno, couple of thoughts still in the air. I'm really waiting for Square to announce that they're re-doing FFVII on PS3, because I want to see Reno in full graphics...

ODST girl058 - YEY, you're back! I'm so happy! Some people left, and I was very sad, so I'm glad you're back. I know, school's ending and we're all busy. But you still came back! (does a happy jig). If I could, I'll rain you with all the boys from FFVII, but as they aren't mine, I guess I can't... darn it.

invsasuke - I'm glad you liked it. Some of it might not make sense... this is a sequel and some of it is based on my previous fiction. But this one will be more... uh, dynamic, I guess, is the word. Dunno. I'm not the reader of this fic so I don't know, but I'm having fun writing it, and compared to other fictions I'm not having a lot of writer's block, so that's good. And there'll be surprises, twists, and turns, but I try to keep it to canon.

Please review (begs on knees)! I'm not asking for a novel, a simple sentence is more than enough. It's the reviews that make me think, "oh, people are reading this, I should keep writing this one".


Chapter VII: A Year After

The Turks returned to the Edge not long after; news had reached Rufus in mysterious ways, and Tseng had called ordering them to come back. In the end, none of them regretted leaving. Costa del Sol was a happy place, but it was a holiday location, not somewhere to live. Even for Reno, who was originally from Costa del Sol, and did not attract as much attention as Arien. Elena, who had forgotten her sunscreen on one particular afternoon, was getting tired of being called "Skunk" by a certain redhead. So all in all, the three were glad when they boarded the chopper heading back to The Edge.

Getting back to the routine was simple – all the patrols, the task of watching Rufus, excursions, clean-ups came back to them naturally, without any hindrance. The Edge was getting rebuilt, not to the glamour of the metropolis called Midgar, but it was a functional city with living people.

Time flew – a month passed, with their days being dedicated to the regular mishaps that Turks went through. They lost track of time, concentrating on everyday lives, the survival, the reconstruction of Shinra Company. None of them – including the stoic Rufus himself – denied the fact that when Shinra fell, a part of them fell as well. Not only was Shinra their protection, but it was also part of their identity, their pride. It was odd – none of them (the Turks, that is) felt quite dedicated to the company when it existed. Their focus was more concentrating on who to kill, and how to fend off Scarlet (for males), not get grossed out by Palmer, and beat off Heidegger when he tried to meddle. Even though they were Rufus' secret right hand, they hardly saw him. And now, with the Shinra glory gone, they saw him everyday, and was constantly reminded of how much the company meant for them. After all, risking your life constantly for something did make that thing mean much to you.

Nearly eight months had passed since The Meteor fiasco; the memory, which was painfully throbbing at first, was starting to fade away, dissipate into the day. The old scars were getting healed – Midgar was a thing of the past. People were talking of the future, not the loss.

The Turks turned deaf ears to them. For them, the future never existed. What was the point, when you very well may die that day? They had learned to focus on the current, not the future. Tomorrow was not there.

Arien and Reno, in particular, were not very thoughtful when it came to the future. Arien was foresighted in the sense that she liked to have back-up plans, savings, things one could lean on when something went wrong. But neither of them was very considerate when it came to making future plans. Their return to The Edge was unplanned, and they dealt with it. And now, they were sitting; well, Arien was lounging on the bed in a white Indian linen shirt and white capris, Reno was sitting on the bed. Usually the role was reversed, and Reno took the note of it with a mild interest.

"Hey, Reno?"

Reno woke up from his reverie – the shining sun, the beaches, the lazy afternoons sharing each other's warmth in the bed… it was the past now. He knew how not to cling onto the past. Like making plans for the future, it was a silly thing to do.

"Hmm? What, yo?"

Arien looked serious. But then, she always did. She rarely changed her expression – a slight smile, a little frown at best. She talked with her eyes, just like others talked with their mouths. He stared at her mouth, uncolored by lipstick, yet still pomegranate red. His hand was on her shin, slightly tanned from the Costa sun. Not even large quantities of sunscreen could banish the rays of the ball of fire in the sky, and while Arien's complexion had not changed much, her legs were looking slightly healthier than usual.

"Why don't you just ditch me?"

The redhead stared at her, surprised. "What kind of a question is that, yo?"

Arien shrugged; her unbound hair fell onto the headboard. "Well, I happen to know your little conquests with women." A sly grin crept on her face. "Looks like the record before me was what? Two weeks? And then, there's me, whom you've been with for nearly two years now. That's more than hundred weeks, you know." She looked at him seriously again. "I want to know why."

"I happen to like women."

"That doesn't explain anything."

"Okay. I'll try to be honest." He sat straighter. "I like beds, I like women. I like sex, and I like what goes before and what goes after. I like the expression all women wear when they take off their clothes, I like it that all women – no matter how flitty and a slut they are – look serious when they step into the bedroom. They all look serious when it's their first time…"

"I'm sure you know," the raven-haired woman said dryly.

"Do you know what's nearly dying out in all women?"

Arien stared. "Of course not."

"It's gonna sound weird coming from me, but it's pure heart." He grinned slightly as he said it. "The only time you can see it is when a woman takes off her clothes and can't look at me straight in the eye, just like I can't see them straight in the eye. But that moment dies fast – usually. The whore takes place of the virgin."

"And Anadiomene leaves the stage."

Reno had no idea what she was talking about; Arien shook her head. "That still doesn't explain the question: why me."

"Because you're one of the very few women who manages to be a virgin every time you take off your clothes. And that's because you don't fuck for pleasure; you do it to pleasure me. You're still a virgin, in a sense."

It was Arien's turn to be absolutely baffled. She did not expect this little speech from the redhead, nor did she expect this ultimate response. She sat, dumbfounded, eyes wide open. Reno grinned, then asked, "Now, why do you stay with me?"

Arien smiled; it was a small smile, the kind which the lips were smiling but the eyes spoke volumes, and even was silent on more.

"I'll tell you later," she said. "Maybe much later."

It seemed to the Turks that someone was messing with the time clock. Or that was how Tseng phrased it, and no one bothered to come up with a better one. It was true – someone slowed time, so that each second meant years, and then hastened the time so much that by the time they realized, whole months had passed. They were already facing a one-year anniversary of the Meteor fall, or, as Reno put it, "throw parties to remind ourselves that a big hunk of rock nearly killed us".

No celebration took place in the DeVir household; Reno and Arien were not even in The Edge when people were celebrating. They – well, Arien – had more imminent things at hand. Personal things that demanded attention.

It was only a week before the Meteor fall anniversary that the letter arrived. Written on creamy paper with purple linings, the ink was thick and ominous when Reno picked it up from the floor. It was addressed to his girlfriend, and so he left it alone. Carrying it in his hand and a crumpled newspaper in the other, he walked to where Arien was sitting in the small home office they shared, typing on the laptop. The Shinra server was still up and running for a reason that nobody knew, and Arien was using it to work on their new project – finding Jenova. Or, as Rufus put it, "Analyzing the effects of Sephiroth's rampage". It was a tedious task, and the Turk was not having a good time. It did not help the day that just an hour before, someone had called her a Wootsie – a derogatory term for the Wutaians. While she didn't fly off the handle and shoot the man, it put her in a bad mood.

"Mail. For you," he said, thrusting the letter under her nose. She looked up; her eyes were tired, and her mouth was in a thin line. She looked at the letter, then frowned.

"What's wrong?"

"Someone died," she said. "It's the traditional stationary we use to notify a funeral." With small ripping sound, she tore the envelope open. "I wonder who it is."

Sitting back in her chair, she stretched as she read. He did not notice something was wrong until a little later, when she had buried her face in her hands and did not move for a long time.

"What's wrong?"

"Ren… Rennie died," she stuttered. She was not crying, but an odd expression was on her face. Like pain, fear, anguish, frustration, all mixed up. And a relief. And regret. And million other things that he could not decipher.

"Aw," was all he could say. And it was all she expected. She did not expect much from him; just to be there was enough.

The funeral was to take place in Wutai. She turned and said, "You'll come, won't you?"

"Me? Why me?"

She turned her head slightly, as if to look away from him. Her face was a mask; she absently scratched her bare arm. But her eyes showed tenderness, regret, and… a plea. A silent one, but a desperate one. He nearly broke then.

"Because…" her voice was cracking, and tears were forming. "Because she wanted to be with you. Whatever her motive was."

And now, here they were, in the funeral procession. Reno felt stiff in the unusually neat uniform – with Arien's tie. The woman was standing next to him; her long hair tied in the traditional bun, her body in the funeral kimono. It was black with white crests, the belt slightly lighter shade of black. She looked good in the traditional Wutaian costume, and her unusual pallor accentuated her red lips. She looks like someone, he thought. Someone he knew. Someone from the past. A haunting face, with a flash of silver, but he did not know whether it was hair or a part of the weapon. Besides, he did not dwell in the past. The past was dead. He was alive.

"You okay, yo?"

No word. A nod. She kept looking at her father, who seemed to have aged a decade in a fortnight. Dark rings were around his eyes, same rings around his daughter's; he looked tired, weary.

The coffin was lowered, and Reno could see that Reniel had lost weight dramatically. The sisters were slender to begin with, but the younger sister seemed almost skin and bones. Dressed in white kimono, she looked innocent, younger than the age. Pale pink flowers – cherry blossoms, out of season – cushioned her, filled by the slender hands of her sister. Her short hair had grown to about chin-length, giving her a small-girl look. Three arrows were placed in her hand – one for the god of the Mountain, one for the God of the Sea, one for the God of the Wind, Arien explained.

The procession moved, each person throwing a relic or a flower into the coffin. Reno watched from behind Arien as she threw the white flowers in her hand. It landed onto Reniel's body with a small noise. The flowers looked virginal, oddly alive on the dead body.

Arien turned, walked away. Reno walked up, tossed in a single, vividly red rose. That was what Reniel was for him: hot-blooded, not exactly innocent, yet with strong emotions. Arien was not a flower – she was a blue crystal, like the one on the ring dangling from the chain around his neck, clear, exquisite, seemingly cold but yet warm to the hands.

"Bye, Rennie," he whispered. He could not say anything else. He turned on his heels and walked away.

The coffin lid was slowly shut, as if they were putting away the slender body forever. The workers began to throw earth onto the coffin; Arien leaned onto the redhead tiredly, her hand on his shoulder. The ring on her finger caught the sunlight and sent out flashes of light into the sky; he absently touched her hand.

They walked together back to the house, which was oddly empty and without life. They were sitting in her room when Reno pointed at black box in the corner and asked, "what's that?"

"That? That's Wutai harp," she replied absently.

"You play?"

"I used to. I haven't played for a month," she replied.

"Play for me."

"No," she replied. "I'm not very good at it."

He did not press on the matter. Then he said, "Why don't you change, yo? You look stiff."

"I think I will," she said. She unraveled the belt and dropped it, then removed the cloth from the shoulders. The kimono fell onto the floor.

"Can you hand me the jeans?"

Reno picked up the jeans and handed it to her. She raised her leg and yanked the blue trousers up her legs, then the other. She zipped up and did the button. He watched, without any hesitation or concern, as she stretched in her jeans like a cat. The sunlight peeped through the window behind her, turning her hair into auburn and reflecting off her white bra. Her paleness was awash with white light, and her eyes were half-closed.

"You're…"

"Hmm?" She stood straight up, and the magic was broken. Yet, he could still see that – what was it? He could not describe it – something about her, faded but still there. Meanwhile, oblivious to his thoughts, Arien pulled on a black turtleneck, then picked up the kimono and carefully folded it. Placing the folded clothes onto the floor, she walked over and opened the blind, closing her eyes as the sunlight hit her face.

Watching her back, Reno finally could name what was about her. It was youth. It was fresh, innocent youth.