This is a quick update, so it's going to be short responses to people who reviewed.

ODST girl058 - Hahaha! That's so weird. I sometimes have that kind of experience, and I feel like I entered Twilight Zone.

Raspberry Polar Bear - I like this chapter better. We're actually getting into the plot of Advent Children. Much mystery and fun occurs! Please read on.

Princess Starr - erm, haven't decided yet. Well, Rennie died, so let's see... one casualty. Next scene (the scene after this) is really pretty, just to let you know.


Chapter VIII: The Face from the Past

The brief celebration was over when the two came back. The usual gloom was back; Geostigma was going around, and it was spreading like some epidemic. No doctor, no mystic could decode the mystery of the disease; no pathogen was found, and there was nothing wrong with the body. But yet still people suffered, and the black pus oozed.

Small children who had lost their homes and were living on the streets were the first victims. As the Turks strolled around the grim city, they saw young bodies lying on the ground, lifeless. And in the beginning people cared; there were occasional burials, women crying as small children played beside their friends on the ground who were alive the night before. But soon, fewer women wept at the sight of the dead bodies, and fewer burials occurred. Bodies disappeared mysteriously, and no one wondered. It was too mundane, too ordinary, to worry about.

The Turks were different. Although they were a rowdy lot, they were still loyal to Rufus, who was definitely not the kindest but still a responsible superior. Over the months, they even started to feel closer to Rufus, who was sitting in a faraway throne before Shinra fell. Now, ill and weak, he was no longer a corporate president but a person who was desperate to bring back the old glory.

It was one of such monotonous days when Reno and Arien returned. They entered through the doorway, and saw the Rufus was in his room, and that the three were sitting around, doing nothing.

"How boring," Reno commented as he sat down on the wooden floor, inspecting his nails. Arien watched him inspect his nails, then giggled.

"What, yo?"

"Somehow, I never expected you to uh… groom your nails." She continued to giggle. "I find it very amusing."

"Just because I'm a slob doesn't mean I'm unhygienic," he replied sarcastically. Tseng raised his eyebrow.

"Really, Reno? Then tell me why…" Tseng could not finish his sentence, as they all heard Rufus call them imperiously to the bedroom.

"Aw, man, what the hell does the blondie want? Sexual favors?" Reno whined. Tseng shot him a very dirty look.

"I suggest you don't do any disrespect to Rufus, Reno, if you value your hide. You might end up in the ditch."

"If that's so, he's been in the ditch more than I can count," Elena muttered.

"True that."

The four hurried to the elegantly furnished bedroom. It was much simpler compared to Rufus' previous room before Midgar got trashed – they all had to be in there for body guarding one time or another – but for the four of them, it was still very well furnished and elegant. What Rufus thought of it, only Rufus knew. He wasn't a man to complain or express himself outwardly. A leader, a man in control was supposed to be calm, maintained. And Rufus kept that up.

Tseng knocked on the door.

"Come in."

The five entered in a single file. Elena was standing straight up; Arien and Tseng were standing similarly, relaxed but still ready; Rude was standing in a typical SOLDIER fashion; and Reno was slumped on the wall. Rufus said nothing. Reno was a faithful and an efficient subordinate, and as far as he did his job he did not really care what his redheaded subordinate did. It was not exactly his concern.

"We're in the phase two of the Jenova project," Rufus explained. "According to the satellite and DeVir's research, we can still assume that Jenova is in the Northern Crater. However, we do not have substantial evidence, and the information might be faulty. I want you three – that's you, Elena, Tseng, and Reno – to go to the Northern Crater to investigate. Rude will search around the remains of the Temple of the Ancients; Arien will stay here with me. Is that clear?"

"Yes sir," the five chorused.

"Good. Tseng, there's a chopper waiting for you at the lift-off in the back, Reno would be piloting it. Reno, drop Rude off at the Temple of the Ancients. Dismissed."

When Rufus said dismissed, they left. As soon as they came out of the earshot, however, Reno sputtered. "Jenova!" he exclaimed. "Man, I thought I had enough with the creepy crawly thing, yo! I mean, why the hell does Rufus want it? It's disgusting, and it caused more trouble than the rest of us."

"Rufus outwardly is maintaining that it is for the reparation of the damage Shinra caused, but we know that's not true. He has to have another motive," Elena agreed.

"I think I have an idea," Arien piped up. The four looked at her. Tseng nodded.

"Well, go on."

"We know Rufus is a tactician; we've all seen that. We also know that Rufus never misses a chance."

Reno looked at her. "So what else is new, Miss Smarty-Pants? That we don't even wanna see an ounce of that disgusting black jelly?"

"What we also know is that Jenova is capable of swaying world's fate. Then, don't you think Jenova will be a powerful weapon? A merchandise?" Arien shook her head. "Rufus is playing a game. It's risky, and it's dangerous, but if he plays it right it can bring him – us – large profits."

Tseng looked at his watch. "Let's get going."


"Butter, cheese, pumpernickels, truffle chocolates, grapefruits, grapes, and… wine." Arien sighed. "No wonder he has geostigma. It's so unhealthy."

It had been a week since Reno had departed, and Arien was going through hell. Renaldo Miller had many flaws, but picky eating wasn't one of them. Hell, he ate anything. He happened to like ethnic foods, which was a good plus for her.

Rufus Shinra happened to be another problem.

She had never seen someone eat like this before. She always thought tolerance with food was the mark of good upbringing – that your parents readied the child for the world. Apparently, Shinra's hired governess for the young president did not include dietary education in the curriculum. As the result, Rufus was a picky eater – and that was more gross understatement than saying that Reno was reckless.

Since Rufus had a sudden attachment to secrecy, he did not allow any nurses to come in. As the result, it became the Turks' job to take care of the president – to feed him, clothe him, and make sure that he was living. In more than one sense, he was as incapable as a small infant, as Arien had discovered. He had an amazing lack of everyday convention – for example, he believed that smoked salmon swam around – and could not even cook a simple toast. Arien liked cooking, but this was getting excessive. Not to mention that he had so many dislikes in food that she felt like there were more things in the world that he could not eat than things that he could. As the result, her cooking repertoire had shrunk to an infinitesimal size. It did not help the matter that Rufus was constantly bored with what he was eating.

She paid the money to the clerk, who angrily threw the change back at her. She was too tired to do anything about it, so she grabbed her grocery bag, shoved the change in her wallet, shoved it in her pocket, and left.

Getting out her car keys, she was just about to open the trunk of her car to stash away the groceries when her cell phone shrilled loudly. She stopped, stared at mid-air for a moment, then scrambled to get the cell phone. Having groceries, car keys, and a cell phone in two hands was not enough, and she had to juggle the three for a second before she got oriented again. She finally managed to get hold of her cell phone and check the caller ID – it said, in slanted font, "Reno".

She flipped the phone open. "Hello?"

"Hey babe."

Phone in one hand, she made sure that the groceries won't tumble in the trunk, then shut the trunk with a bang. She opened the door of the car. "Hello, Reno. Where are you?"

"In the Icicle Inn. I didn't know Elena could drink that much, yo."

"You got drunk?" She was slightly annoyed. Here she was, taking care of Rufus and doing menial work, while Reno was… was… drinking. Life just wasn't fair.

"I didn't get drunk. I watched Elena get drunk after thirteen glasses of Icicle Shot." He sounded offended. "Whatcha doin'?"

"I'm trying to get into my car," she replied absentmindedly. Reno snorted on the other end.

"No, I mean whatcha been doin'."

"Taking care of Rufus, what did you think? How are you going with the assignment?"

"Eh, not good," Reno said without much guilt. "We can't find shit. We have some leads, though. No one around here knows anything. Their heads are probably filled with mush."

Arien had a strong urge to laugh, but controlled herself. She pushed the key into the ignition, pulled the lever beside her, and backed out of the parking lot. "Reno, I have to go. I'm driving, and…"

"You can't talk while you're drivin'," Reno chuckled. "I know. I've seen you drive. Talk to ya later, babe."

"See you."

"Make sure your bed's not warm!" Click. Reno was gone. Flinging the phone onto the passenger seat, she laughed out loud as she drove. At the same time, she missed him. Oh, not too much – she managed to forget him most of the time, she was so busy. But when she was driving, when she reached over in the middle of the night and found no body next to her, when she heard his mocking voice, she missed him.

But not too much.


The conscience drifted through the Lifestream. Already the souls of those who died with the terrible disease cried out mournfully, pleading for the freedom from the terrible pain, the agony. The conscience ignored it. It had another purpose.

The conscience sought the world, and found what it sought for.


It was evening, which meant freedom. Rufus generally left the Turks to their own devices after dinner. When they were together, they would read, go for walks, drink, or play little games that killed time. Arien smiled at the fond memory when Reno got drunk (which was extremely rare – almost everyone pulled out their cameras on their phones and took pictures), crouched in front of her on all-fours, looked at her sensuously, and offered her, in slurred words, a "sensual lapdance that is surely worth your gils". She had laughed, said no, and told him to get off.

Tonight was no exception, so she sat in the room, alone in the darkness, which she and the redhead shared whenever they stayed in Healin. She had nothing to do. Maybe she'll read a newspaper. Or maybe she'll sleep. Yes, sleep sounded good. She felt that she had not slept properly for days now, maybe even weeks. Every fiber in her body screamed fatigue, and she felt fuzzy.

She stood up from the made bed, stretched, and took a step over to change into pajamas. The step was never completed.

An agonizing pain flashed, and it was so intense and so fast that she could not discern where it was from. Her vision started to have black spots, and she stumbled over her own leg and fell clumsily onto the floor. The wooden floor was not soft, and she felt her knee smash into the planar surface following the laws of physics. Her hands slammed into the wood as well. Her palms burned. And then another flash of pain coursed through. This time, she was ready enough to figure out where the pain was – her scalp.

She felt something wet on her scalp, but did not have the energy nor the courage to touch it. Her vision wavered again threateningly; she tried to stand but her knee buckled and gave in again. Her mouth tasted like it was full of ash; her hands were clammy. Her breathing was faster, almost out of breath, and she had ringing in her ears. She felt herself blacking out and struggled to regain consciousness. Looking around the room, trying to find a way to save herself from collapsing onto the floor, her eyes locked onto the corner of the room, by the window and the closet.

It was a black shapeless mass, growing steadily. Then another spasm of pain attacked her, and she saw a very familiar face. It was familiar, not only because she had seen that face in print before, but because there was uncanny resemblance to her own.

It was an exquisite face. Reno was handsome; this face was beautiful. Eyes that were long and slanted, a slightly sloping small nose, and curvy lips – the kind that the top was angular but the bottom was full. High cheekbones, pale face. Angular chin. She knew that face so well. Too well for her liking.

She blinked, but the face was still there. And with it came the body – well toned and muscular yet lithe and slim, clad in black leather. Tall.

Arien could not speak. Her voice struggled; she opened her mouth and only a gurgle came out. And then another spasm of pain.

Sephiroth.

Oh my god.

She wanted to scream, but no voice came out. She wanted to flee, but her legs betrayed her. She was on all-fours, tears filling her eyes as waves of pain attacked her, threatened to take her consciousness away. There had never been a time when she needed Reno more desperately than now. She wanted him to laugh, to take her away. But Reno was thousand miles from Healin, and she was alone.

"Do not fear, my sister," he was saying. She had never heard his voice before, but it was smooth, deep, with a soothing tone. If she did not know what he was capable of, she would have instantly adored him, loved him, honored him. God, he was beautiful…

Wait a minute. Sister?

Her only sibling was Reniel DeVir, and she was six feet under. As far as she knew, her mother nor her father had any other sexual relationships except with each other. Besides, she would have known if the famous Sephiroth was her brother. Hell, she would have had an easier time getting into the military academy.

"I'm… not your sister." The words came out between a croak and an ungraceful squeak. Saliva was slowly trickling down her mouth.

"Oh, you're related to me, alright," he said. "Didn't anyone ever say to you?"

And she could not say no. Almost everyone close to her had said it. Ivana, Zen, Reno, even Tseng. And she had always accredited the fact to her Wutai heritage, because Hojo was originally a Wutaian. But her father did not have any relatives. He was a single child, and his uncle had no child.

He was lying.

"LIAR!" She hissed, her voice dying. Every tick of the clock seemed to be an hour for her.

"You will find out soon enough, sister," he said calmly, soothingly. "I need something from you. A small thing. I can release you from pain that you're going through right now."

Arien twitched, and she tried to hide it, but it was visible. Sephiroth's lips curved into a smile – a graceful, sinister smile.

"I just need to know where Mother is – your Turk is going after it, isn't he?" Without waiting for her response, he continued. "I don't actually need Mother, sister. I just need the knowledge. It's not too big of a thing to impart with, is it, sister?"

She nearly said yes. She was so close, and the pain was unbearable.

"Y…"

Reno's face flashed before her eyes. His crooked smile, the gentle expression on his face when he looked at her. He had not changed, and then he had changed so much ever since they started to go out. The changes were subtle, but she could see it clearly.

Sephiroth never meant any good for them. He had inadvertently nearly killed Reno and herself. He had nearly destroyed the world in his insanity. He would have no problem killer her – or him. She did not care if she died, but to lose Reno was worse than death. And to deprive Reno of his life – when he loved life so much – was unbearable to her. And for some reason, she knew that Sephiroth was not looking for Genova to offer her a slice of cheesecake.

No, he meant for something else.

And there was no way on earth or in hell that she would lend a hand to some psycho who was previously on a self-assigned mission by some weird jelly with tentacles to destroy the world. She was a Turk, she was supposed to be an evil assassin, but that didn't mean she was wishing for the world destruction.

"No," she said finally. "I can't."

His expression did not change, but a small furrow appeared between his elegant brows, as if he was not expecting this reply. Surely not, not many people said "no" to the great Sephiroth. "No?" He said, almost in a pitying tone. "I suggest you say yes, sister. I would not say things that would be detrimental to you. It would be a sane choice. Think about it."

She watched, her vision hazed with pain in her scalp, as Sephiroth's image began to fade away.

"Sanity ended," she said with gritted teeth as she slowly succumbed to pain and losing consciousness, "when I fell in love with that redhead."