Hello! I hope you've all been well 🌻 This chapter stumped me a few times, but I hope you all enjoy regardless. We're starting to wrap up a few plot threads now that we're getting closer to the ending.

As always, shoutout to silver_doe287 for editing this chapter đź’™


For the first time since the Wutai War, the entirety of Shinra Headquarters was on lockdown. The reason given during the periodic emergency transmission was that there was a gas leak between floors sixty-four and sixty-seven, and it had the potential to spread to the other floors. Usually such a thing would not prompt such an emergency, but those floors belonged to Hojo and his experiments, so the gas could be anything… or so the Shinra employees believed as they shuttled out of the building.

Elevators were shut down. Doors were locked and barricaded behind steel. Evacuations commenced. Shouts and grim conversations echoed through the lobby, each one circulating around rumors and speculations of what, exactly, slipped out of Hojo's laboratory. The rumors spiraled out of control, bellied by distrust and fear.

Floor sixty-eight was almost quiet by comparison. The storage elevator — one of the few not shut down in the lockdown — came to a shuddering stop, and the doors groaned open. Its occupants spilled out in relief. Jessie in particular was a peculiar shade of green, and she had to brace herself against the wall as she choked back her dry-heaves.

Tifa rubbed her back, murmuring reassurances. She wasn't even sure what she was saying. Her mind was tumbling like load of laundry, tangling and snagging and unraveling at the seams, because if she turned her head slightly to the left, she could make out the crisp, clinical sign that read:

FLOOR SIXTY EIGHT.

HOJO'S LABORATORY.

RESTRICTED AREA: AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY.

Beneath the bolded letters was a small depiction of a dog wearing a small green helmet. It was sitting with its tongue dangling out of its mouth, and a bright red X had been drawn on top of him.

A harsh shudder ran down her spine.

"So," Kunsel began. Tifa couldn't make out his expression beneath his glassy helmet, but his voice was low and tense. "Here we are."

"Here we are," Barret echoed from his place beside the SOLDIER. His arms were crossed over his chest, one natural and the other his prosthetic gun. "So now what?"

Kunsel's focus dropped to the screen in his hand. "Now we have to wait for Nobody," he replied, his grip tightening on his phone's black metal, "and then, once she gets here, we head into the lab."

Tifa's arms immediately pebbled with goosebumps. And then we go into the lab. Kunsel had said it like it was nothing, just a casual stroll into another room when really she felt like she was being crushed by the weight of its implications.

"And Cloud is somewhere inside," Tifa added, her voice small.

"With Zack," Kunsel added, but there was so missing the obvious, hopefully, missing at the end of his sentence. Hopefully Cloud was with Zack. Hopefully they were together. Hopefully the team could find them in time.

If not…

Tifa didn't want to even consider that line of thought, and instead returned her attention to the lab's metal placard. Cloud had lived in a lab for four years until Zack was able to get them out. Sometimes, in the dead of night when she couldn't sleep, she wondered what it would be like to live like that: to be surrounded by stainless steel, day after day after day, without being able to feel the sunlight or wind against her face. Not even the Midgar slums had been that dire, and now as she stood outside the laboratory's door, she had a feeling that her imagination was woefully inadequate compared to the reality. She wasn't sure if she wanted to know more, but her other option was to leave…

Tifa raised her chin. I'm sure it's not that bad, she told herself, her hands trembling at her sides. And even it is, it doesn't matter. Leaving was an impossibility, one that wasn't even worth contemplating. She would be entering that lab, with her eyes wide open, memorizing every step of the way.

For Cloud.

"When will Nobody and Aerith get here?" Tifa asked, if only to have something else to think about.

"Soon," was Kunsel's response, and sure enough, Nobody and Aerith arrived within minutes. They both looked well; or rather, as well as anyone could be considering the situation. Nobody was smartly dressed in black slacks and her copper hair pulled back in a tight bun, while Aerith was adorned in her usual pink dress, a red leather jacket, and a smile. The only indication of her unease was the tightness around her eyes and the way she looked at everything except the laboratory's entrance.

Kunsel visibly deflated the moment Nobody and Aerith arrived, which Tifa thought was strange until he said, "You didn't find him." He didn't need to explain who him was; everyone there knew that he was referring to Zack.

Aerith's smile faltered, and whatever greeting she had been preparing died on her lips. "Not yet," she eventually replied.

"But we will," Nobody added, her tone matter-of-fact, until she turned to the rest of the party. Her severe expression softened. "It's good to see you all again."

"Likewise," Barret gruffly said. "Heard you got your own troubles."

"Who doesn't these days," was Nobody vague reply, and then she immediately changed the topic. "Kunsel informed me of the situation on our way here. Who do I need to escort out of the building?"

In answer, Barret waved his hand towards Biggs, who had propped himself up against the wall; Wedge, who was lying on the floor with a strained air about him; and Jessie, who was draped on Tifa's shoulder.

Jessie weakly waved a hand in greeting. "Hi."

Nobody's expression was a mask of neutrality. "I see," she eventually said. "Drugged?"

"Drugged," Barret agreed. "A poor reaction."

"Very poor," Wedge agreed from the floor.

Barret frowned at him in concern before he turned back to Nobody. "Can you get them out?"

"Of course I can." Nobody almost sounded offended. "I may be retired from the Turks, but I still follow their motto: no job is impossible, not for us."

Barret nodded. "Good. I owe you one."

"You don't. Consider it a favor from a friend, or even an… apology, if you will." This she directed to Kunsel, who suddenly found his boot laces to be incredibly interesting. "But that doesn't matter right now. You all should get going. Trust me, you don't want to be found by any infantrymen or drones sweeping the building, or worse."

"Worse?" A chill settled in Tifa's gut as she asked, "What do you mean by worse?"
"Scarlet. Hojo. One of Hojo's creations. Take your pick," Nobody replied. "The point is, you want to have already completed your mission by the time they get here. They're likely already on their way."

It was Aerith who replied, "Don't worry," even as ice crawled through Tifa's veins and frost settled on her skin. "We'll be in and out, like we weren't even here. Easy peasy."

"Of course you will," Nobody replied with a confidence Tifa didn't feel. "As soon as I escort those three to the Turk headquarters, I'll loop back in and provide support. Tseng will also provide support on an as-needed basis."

Kunsel did a full-body jolt. "Tseng knows?"

"Yes." Nobody looked him in the eye; or rather, where his eyes would be behind his iridescent full-faced helmet. "He also sends his regards, as well as his regrets."

By the rigid set of Kunsel's spine, he didn't seem to take the news kindly; but eventually, after several terse moments, he clipped his head in what could generously be called a nod. "I hope you know what you're doing." The warning was clear in his tone.

"I do," Nobody breezily replied. "Now go, and be quick about it. I'll message you as soon as I am able."

That was their cue. Tifa let Jessie go — the other woman could walk without her support now — and she turned towards the lab, trying and failing to ignore the butterflies warring in her stomach. Her hands were hot and clammy beneath her leather gloves, and her legs felt shaky; like if she didn't keep a close eye on her gait, her knees might give out. Kunsel may have said something to the group. She wasn't entirely sure what it was.

"You too," Nobody said behind them. "Don't do anything stupid."

Barret suddenly laughed, a booming sound that had no business being in such a cold hallway, and thoroughly startled all of them. "Do you know who the hell you're talking to?" he shouted, all hubris and bravado. "I'm the king of stupid! Bring it on! This stupid lab doesn't scare me."

"Would you be quiet," Kunsel snapped. "This isn't a field trip."

"Of course it ain't! We're going to rescue Zack and Cloud!"

"Right," Aerith cut in, her voice like steel. "Remember, Hojo's lab isn't like the rest of Shinra. The same rules don't apply. Be careful, and don't touch anything."

"You sound like you have personal experience," Tifa commented.

"I do," came Aerith's easy reply. "I grew up here."

Tifa couldn't help but stop and stare at the other woman, incredulous. "You… what?" Even Kunsel had stopped walking to watch the two of them, obviously surprised as well.

Aerith ran her fingertips along the wall, her expression unreadable. "That's right," she said after a lengthy pause. There were unconscious laboratory assistants strewn across the floor. She didn't even spare them a glance; though, in all fairness, neither did anyone else on the team. "In a way, this almost feels a bit like coming home."

That statement lingered between them, unobstructed and unchallenged, until Barret muttered under his breath, "That's fucked up."

Aerith's lips quirked up in a sad smile. "It kinda is, isn't it?"

"Do you know your way through the back rooms?" Kunsel suddenly asked, and at Aerith's assent, he explained, "I know the main laboratory decently well — that's where Hojo gave us SOLDIERs our injections — but we were never permitted in the employee-only section. I have floor plans, so I can get us through it, but it won't be as valuable as first-hand experience."

Barret turned to him in accusation. "I knew your plan was shit. I knew it."

Kunsel ignored him.

"I'm not sure if I know my way around very well," Aerith cut in, saving them from the tense lull in the conversation. "I mean, I was pretty small the last time I was here, and a lot already seems… different, if that makes sense. But the general layout should be the same," she added, though she sounded as if she was trying to convince herself rather than them. "I should be all right."

Tifa placed a comforting hand on her shoulder and tried for a smile. "We'll be right behind you," she promised.

Aerith flashed her a mirroring faint grin before she turned straight ahead, her chin high and her back ramrod straight. "Well." Her voice sounded far too cheerful in such a depressing place. "Shall we go?"

"Let's go," Barret grumbled unhappily, and with Kunsel's nod, the four of them continued further into the lab.


Aerith hadn't know what to expect when she entered the laboratory. Half of her thought that it felt a little bit like coming home; sure, it may have been a home she had hated, a home that had killed her mother, and yet at the same time, she had spent so many of her formative years here that walking through the doors had felt familiar. The weight of this space had settled on her shoulders like a stuffy winter coat. The smell, the blinking machine lights, the steady hissing through the pipes on the wall…

Home, she thought, and something within her crumpled.

"This way," she said as she took a right turn. Something green and viscous was splattered against the walls — stale mako perhaps, or maybe some jellied substance that helped preserve whatever organism Hojo was studying — and she carefully stepped over it before continuing on. Behind her, she was distantly aware of Barret grumbling something under his breath and Kunsel firing back with his own comment, but she could hardly pay attention.

She knew this hallway. There was a dent along the wall where one of the assistants had banged it with a hospital bed, a ruddy stain when one of the specimens had broken free on the way to storage, and…

… Oh. She ran her hand against the corner, where the hallway took a sharp left into a separate room. My handprint is gone. When she had been a child, she had dipped her hand in green paint and pressed it against this very spot. It had meant to tell her that she was almost back in her room after a day spent elsewhere. It was supposed to be her mark, something permanent that she could point out, that she could claim as hers.

It was gone, now.

When she peaked into the room, she noted that everything else was gone as well. The mural she had painted had been painted off with a creamy, off-white shade. The lamp she had drawn over with colored marker had been replaced by a stainless steel fixture. Her wooden bed, the one she had carved a stick-figure family into, had been replaced by a metal slab.

It's all gone, she thought. It wasn't a bleak thought, but it was… something. It twisted inside of her like an ocean current, unseen yet pulling and tugging against her soft edges. Her grip tightened against the doorframe. She thought that she might have been trembling.

Tifa's hand on her shoulder jolted her out of her thoughts. "Are you okay?" Tifa asked, and Aerith blinked at her in a sort of stupor.

Am I okay? Aerith wondered.

"Yeah," she said, hesitant at first, but then more sure of herself. "Yeah, I am," she said again, and she was surprised at how right that felt. Yes, she was okay. She was all right. She may have spent several years of her childhood in this place, but this place was not her home.

"Are you sure?" Tifa asked.

If they had been anywhere else but here, Aerith might have laughed. "Yes, I'm sure," she promised, and then slung her arm over the taller girl's shoulder and led the team down the hall. She felt lighter, somehow. Her breaths came easier. The weight that she had unknowingly been carrying had been left behind in the small, depressing room. "Now let's go find Zack and Cloud."

Tifa's expression hardened a fraction, and with her nod, they continued deeper into the laboratory. There wasn't much to see this far down; the rooms were all dark and bare, the hallway was devoid of decoration, and the air was stale and tasted sharply of mako. Every once in a while Aerith could hear something shift behind a closed door, a low growl that had the small hairs of her neck standing on end. A part of her wondered what was in there. A larger, less honorable part of her didn't want to know. Besides, they didn't have time to stop; they had no spare time for a detour, for a second rescue mission on top of the one they were currently executing.

"I'm sorry," Aerith murmured as they passed yet another closed, yet occupied, room. "I'm sorry."

Barret turned to her with a scowl. "Who are you apologizing to?" he demanded.

Aerith didn't have it in her heart to say.

Thankfully, Kunsel is the one who spared her from a response. "This is odd," he said, as if their entire situation wasn't already unthinkable. "There should be… Hojo, or lab assistants, or something wandering around."

"It's too quiet," Tifa agreed.

"Far too quiet." Kunsel glanced down a corridor and made a faint noise when he saw that it was just as bare as all of the ones previously. "Not that I'm complaining, but…"

"It's creepy as hell," Barret cut in. He wasn't wrong. "Feels like we're walkin' into a trap or something."

Aerith's stomach tightened. She had wondered if this was a trap earlier, just one elaborate ploy for Hojo to find her and take her back, but she tried to suppress those childhood worries with logic: Hojo was only after her mother, that her mother was dead, that Hojo hadn't expressed any interest in her since, that he had a new project… a project that involved Zack and Cloud.

"Even if it is a trap," she began, her voice ringing against the steel walls, "we can't turn back. Not now."

"No one's talking about turnin' around," Barret pointed out. "I'm just saying to be on guard, that's all. There's no tellin' what horrible things are buried in here."

"This may be the first time I've agreed with you," Kunsel deadpanned.

Barret flashed the other man a bright, violent grin. "Aw, SOLDIER-boy. Is that your way of asking if you want to be my friend?"

"Fuck off."

Barret chortled, but even Aerith could hear the tension in his voice, the way his laugh sounded a bit too forced. He's nervous, she realized, and with that came her next thought: I'm nervous. She couldn't remember ever being so nervous in her life. Somewhere in this awful lab was Zack and Cloud, and —

— and her thoughts cut off abruptly as, when they entered the final room in the hall, she saw a prone figure sprawled out on the ground. Her surroundings faded from sight as her breath stuttered in her throat, choked and strangled and cold all at once.

"Zack!"

Her cry tore out of her without her prompting, and its echo ricocheted across the walls as she lurched forward… only to be jerked to a sudden stop, another hand gripping her upper arm like a vice. Aerith made a move to jerk her arm away, to force the hand to let go, but when she looked up she paused. Tifa looked afraid, somehow; and when Aerith turned, her vision briefly blurring before her tears fell, she noticed that a red wolf was standing over Zack's form. Its flaming tail swished back and forth, so quickly that it sent sparks dancing into the air. Its teeth were pulled back in a snarl. Its hackles were raised.

It looked a lot like it was defending a corpse; that is, if it hadn't been the one to put the corpse there in the first place.

"The hell is that," Barret demanded as he leveled his prosthetic gun at the creature. Aerith could hear its gears begin to whir as they spun. "That one of Hojo's creatures?"

"Hojo is no master of mine," the wolf snapped.

Barret visibly recoiled. "What the—"

Kunsel took a step forward. He was shaking, Aerith noted. "You can talk," the SOLDIER stated. It wasn't a question. "You have intelligence."

The wolf's lips pulled back in a mean growl. "I am likely more intelligent than you are."

Kunsel gave no indication that he had heard. "What happened here?" he asked instead. He took a step forward, only to think better of it when the red wolf snarled. "Is Zack… Is he…"

His voice trailed off, but Aerith filled in the blanks: Is he dead? was the question, and it had her chest tightening painfully.

"Please," she begged. Shaking off Tifa's grip, she took a hesitant step forward, and then another. "Please, Zack is my… Please, if he's hurt, I can help him. We can help him. We're friends, we're…"

As she spoke, the red wolf seemed to relax slightly, though his intense gaze never deviated from her face. "You're his friends?" he asked.

"Yes." Aerith sobbed on the word. "Yes, we're friends, please—"

She couldn't remember ever losing her composer like this before, but finally — finally! — the red wolf inclined his head and stepped to the side.

"My name is Red Thirteen," he murmured as Aerith skidded to a stop beside Zack, her knees clattering painfully as she knelt by his side. He couldn't be dead. He couldn't. "Zack was looking for someone, a man he called Sephiroth. I decided to accompany him."

"And then what?"

That was Barret's voice now, gruff and grating in the quiet, but Aerith hardly heard. Instead she had raised her gaze to Kunsel, tears falling freely down her face, her hands reaching down to cradle Zack's head in her lap. His eyes were closed. He was pale, his lips were blue. His chest was just barely rising and falling. And then, lower…

"Please," she whispered to Kunsel.

Kunsel's head jerked up to her before he nodded, a clipped gesture, and he reached into his pocket. "I have a few potions," he said hoarsely. "No time to grab the Cure or Restore materia. I should have—"

"Potions are better than nothing," Aerith stated, even though the very clinical, logical side of her reminded her that potions would do next to nothing against such a severe puncture wound. There was blood everywhere. It had soaked into the floor, had seeped into the seams between the steel plates, had trickled down his lips and stained the collar of his ribbed vest. "Please, just…"

Above her, she heard Tifa's sharp gasp, a muted, "No, that's impossible, he would never," but it was lost as Kunsel ordered her to tilt Zack's chin back. She did so, as carefully as she could, brushing his hair back with her fingers and whispering how good he was doing. He didn't respond. He didn't even twitch. His hands were cold.

"I'm sorry," Red whispered beside her, "I was too late," but Aerith was shaking her head before he could finish his sentence.

She smiled at him, shaky and wane, but the gratitude was there. "There's no need to apologize," she replied, her voice equally hoarse. "Thank you for staying with him, and for keeping him company. He hates… He hates to be alone."

Kunsel made a low, wounded sound in his throat. Red only inclined his head, and he did not response. It was Kunsel who finally said, "All right, that's the first one. Any change?"

His voice sounded thick and watery, as if he was choking back tears. They made her own eyes sting in sympathy, and she hurriedly wiped them away with her clean wrist. "Yes," she said, and she was pleased that her voice hardly shook at all. "Look, he's already breathing easier. It's… It's helping. Can you give him another?"

"I can, but I don't want to overdose him."

"Is overdosing worse than his situation right now?"

A pause, then: "No." Kunsel sounded a bit defeated, and he opened the second potion with a sharp pop. "No, I guess not."

In the end, it took all five of Kunsel's potions to get a positive response: Zack grunted, low and guttural, and Aerith gasped as if she had been shot.

"Zack? Zack, love?" She pressed her hand against his cheek and ran her thumb along his sharp cheekbone, frantic and nearly hysterical. It felt as if claws were running up and down her lungs. "Zack? Can you hear me?"

Zack's brow furrowed and he groaned, tight-lipped and pained.

"I know, I know it hurts," she murmured, still rubbing circles over his cheekbones. She distantly noticed that all of the conversation around her had gone silent. So silent, in fact, that she could her the mako gurgling in the walls. "I know, and I'm sorry. I'm sorry it took me so long to get here—" her voice cracked then— "but I'm here now, and I'll never leave your side again. Never, you hear me? We're going to stick together from now on, no matter what happens."

Zack swallowed thickly before his eyelashes fluttered open. His eyes were nearly black from his pupils, but eventually they focused, their sea glass light burning hot in the dimly-lit room. They roamed for a bit before landing on her, going still as if he couldn't quite believe it, before his entire expression relaxed into a smile.

"Heaven?"

Aerith briefly froze, her eyes widening, but then she saw the recognition in his gaze, the love lingering there, and… Oh. Oh, she had nearly forgotten this conversation.

She wetly laughed. "No, not quite."

Zack's grin went crooked. Despite the dark bruises beneath his eyes, his sallow skin, his obvious exhaustion, it was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen.

"An angel?" he asked her, his voice rasping, teasing.

"No," she managed to reply, "I'm Aerith," and then she promptly burst into tears.


Don't cry, Cloud.

Meaningless words tore through Cloud's mind, there and gone again, like leaves ripped of a branch and flung to the sky. He was walking. At least, he thought he was walking. He was distantly aware that his legs were moving without his input, that his boots were hitting something solid and stuttered before carrying his weight forward. He vaguely noticed that there was something heavy and wet cradled in his arms. He knew it was precious but he did not know why. He considered it, and then he decided he did not care.

That's right, Cloud, purred a voice. Don't think anymore. Just listen to me; I'll take care of you.

Not thinking sounded good. Not thinking sounded great, in fact, and yet his mind continued to spin madly, locked in its own warped orbit because his hand was wet. Something warm but rapidly cooling was dripping from his fingertips. Sensations ghosted against his skin: his fingertips pressing against something firm, a sudden wet squelch, a hard surface gave way to damp heat and soft textures. A sudden stab of clarity: I just gutted someone with my own hand.

It wasn't real, came the voice, then: Of course it wasn't.

A watery gasp echoed in the dark, a choked-off sob that was abruptly cut off by a hissing pipe. Green-tinged steam belched into the air before fading away, and he blinked at it even as his body obediently shuffled forward. He missed the fog. Nibelheim would be covered with fog in the early autumn months, and he had loved to sit by the window and watch it roll by. Maybe he could go back, one day. Maybe he could go home and ask his mom to make him a cup of cocoa and —

Cloud, aren't you a little too old for bedtime stories?

With that, the daydream collapsed into a green-tinged monochrome of hard walls and sharp edges. Something bubbled through the pipes, there was a harsh rattling in one of the nearby cages, and everything smelled like char and ozone and stale urine. His head hurt…

Don't stop now. Don't you want to see Mother?

Cloud's spinning thoughts promptly snagged on that promise. Mother, he thought and dropped his gaze down, his vision blurry and unfocused as he traced over the heavy thing cradled in his arms. He couldn't help but softly smile. His mother smiled back at him, her hair like honey and her blue eyes warm with affection.

Let's go, Cloud, his mother told him: same voice, same softness, same lilt when she spoke his name. We're almost there. Don't you want to be together?

"I want to be together," Cloud answered, his voice hoarse and brittle, the words so mumbled they were nearly unrecognizable.

His mother's smile widened, showing teeth. Me too. Now let's go. Just a few more steps, Cloud, and then we can have a family reunion.

Cloud wanted to tell her that they don't have any other family, but the notion soon slipped out of his awareness like a sunset: at first slowly, and then all at once. "Okay," he whispered, and he took another staggering step forward.

Nothing else mattered.


Zack had the faint suspicion that the entire sum of his life was a collection of a dozen hours he could never forget: climbing a tree in the backyard and wondering, once he reached the top, if that was as high as he could get; eating mangoes in the summer and thinking that there was something lacking within him; seeing the map of the world and realizing just how wide it was; running away to join the SOLDIER program; getting his first injections; his first mission; his first brutal, unforgivable failure; a tumble through a church roof, and the stars the spun afterwards.

And now, this.

His heart was beating so loudly that it paralyzed the finer parts of him, blunted his sharp edges, and he found himself murmuring nameless words of comfort as a bowed head sobbed above his chest. He himself felt nothing. Something had been ripped out of him. Something vital, and yet not. He had the faint, fleeting suspicion that nothing in life had been real until this moment.

"Aerith," was the name he whispered in the laboratory's stale air. He raised his hand and somehow managed to rest it on the top of her head. He ran his fingers through her hair. "Aerith, it's okay now. I'm okay." Something niggled at him that there was something missing, but his thoughts were fuzzy and collided together in his head, and he exhaled their debris. "Aerith…"

"Sorry! Sorry." Aerith snapped her head up, so quickly that his hand slipped to her elbow, and she hurriedly wiped her eyes. Bright streaks sheered over her cheeks as she smiled at him, tight and pained. "Sorry," she said again, her voice gentle. "I didn't mean to lose it."

Zack only shook his head. The movement disagreed with him; it sent the room tumbling about him like a sudden rockslide, and he had to rapidly blink and swallow before it settled. "You're fine," he murmured. "Nothing to apologize for."

"How are you feeling?" came a new voice, and Zack shifted his gaze only to come face-to-face with his own reflection. He suppressed a wince; he really did look like shit.

"Fine," he replied, then reconsidered. "Like I've been stabbed."

"You were," came a second voice, and a red, furry face was suddenly hovering over his line of sight. Red Thirteen, Zack's brain supplied. "I am glad that you have awoken."

Zack felt the same, but mostly he was surprised that he had woken up at all. He hadn't expected to. He had been stabbed — he remembered that vividly, in fact — but it hadn't been a sword that had impaled him. That's right; it hadn't been a sword, but instead it had been…

"Cloud!" Zack jackknifed into a sitting position, the shout already echoing through the air, only to immediately regret it. His vision swam as pain bloomed in his stomach, and he might have passed out for a moment, because with his next blink he was lying back on the ground and Aerith's hands were firm on his shoulders. "Cloud," he rasped, rapidly blinking the temporary blindness away. His ears were ringing. "Cloud, where is…"

"We're looking for him." That was Tifa now, though Zack couldn't see her just yet. Her voice sounded close by. "We'll… As soon as you're back on your feet, or at least, more stable, then we can…"

"I'm fine. I'm great, in fact. I've never been better." Zack had never told such a filthy lie in his life, and judging by Aerith's dry look she laid on him, she knew it, too. He flashed her an uneasy smile. "C'mon, let's get a move on. I can walk. I can definitely walk." He was absolutely certain that he could not walk, but maybe he could hobble around with some support. Maybe. It would be slow progress, but… "Actually, better yet," he said as a new thought occurred to him, "just leave me here and go find Cloud. Then you can move quicker, and—"

"Zack." Aerith interrupted him, and her tone was so sharp that it might as well have been a slap. "We're not leaving you. Not after we looked so hard to find you. Don't even think about it."

Unease churned in Zack's gut. "But…"

"No buts." Aerith glared at him, an impressive feat considering how watery her eyes were. Zack's stomach curdled beneath the weight of her obvious misery. "I already told you that we're not going to be separated, never again. You're coming with us. We can figure out a way to carry you."

"Hell, I'll carry you. You're basically a twig, anyway." That was Barret's voice, all sharp edges and jagged consonants. "Leave you behind… You think we're stupid? You think I'm too weak to carry you around? Huh? You callin' me a weakling?"

Zack had the sudden urge to sleep for a thousand years. "I didn't say that."

"You better not've." Barret sniffed like he was personally offended, and continued, "Now that we got that utter bullshit sorted out, let's figure out our next move." He turned to the rest of the group before continuing the conversation, and the steady, faint drone of their voices had Zack's eyelashes fluttering in exhaustion.

The one nearest to him — not Aerith, but the man wearing the full-faced helmet — made no move to join.

Zack blinked at him, slowly. His thoughts may be dragging along like syrup, but he was suddenly struck with familiarity. "I know you," he eventually decided.

The man turned to him before turning away. "Yeah." He sounded choked. "Yeah, you know me."

His tone was familiar. It had a familiar cadence, a familiar lilt of speaking, and Zack's brows furrowed as he fought to remember… and then it hit him, all at once, like a punch to the gut.

"Kunsel," Zack sharply exhaled, because of course it was. Who else could it possibly be? "You helmet-wearing bastard," he added with a wane grin. "What are you doing here?"

Kunsel's hands clenched and unclenched at his side. "I…" His tone faltered. "When the report came in… the one about you, I mean… I didn't believe it. I knew it was bullshit. I looked for you."

"Kunsel…"

"I swear I did." Kunsel inhaled, sharp and broken. "I'm sorry it took so long to find you."

Zack swallowed past the hard lump in his throat. He was faintly aware that his eyes were stinging, and he reached across the empty space between them. "Hey," he said softly, "look at me. Take off your helmet."

Kunsel's shoulders went taunt, but only for a moment; then he reached up and undid the clasp of his helmet before placing it carefully at his side. When he turned to Zack, his mako-stained eyes were watery. Tears traced down his sharp cheeks, which were thinner than Zack remembered. Stubble, something new in the time Zack had lost, darkened his chin and sharpened his jaw. There was a hollowness to his eyes that hadn't been there before. His smile wasn't as bright, and yet it was there; faint, pale, and thin, but there.

"You've gotten uglier," Zack croaked.

Kunsel stared frozen for a moment before he suddenly laughed, a burst of noise that surprised the both of them. "Fuck you," Kunsel said, his grin brighter as he wiped the fresh dampness from his eyes. "You, of all people, can't tell me that right now. You look like shit."

Zack looked down at himself and grimaced. Yeah, he did look a bit like shit, didn't he. "At least I have an excuse. You're stuck like that."

"Rude."

"What about him?" Tifa, who had broken free from her conversation with Barret, Aerith, and Red, glanced at the two of them. She did a bit of a double-take when she noticed Kunsel without his helmet on, but she recovered quickly. "Rude's one of the Turks, right? With Reno? Are they on the move again?"

"Yeah, has Nobody mentioned anything?" Aerith chimed in. She ran her fingers along Zack's hairline, and Zack allowed himself to relax against the gentle touch. "We may want to think about getting a move on…"

"Red filled us in with what happened." That was Barret, who was now addressing Zack. He had a dark gleam to his eyes. "But it doesn't make sense. Cloud did that to you?"

Zack grimaced. "Sephiroth," he corrected, and Tifa sharply inhaled.

"But Sephiroth is dead," Kunsel pointed out, but then blanched. "Unless the report also…"

"He's dead," Zack assured, "Cloud killed him, I watched it happen. But Sephiroth, he somehow… came back, or something. He's possessing Cloud. I think…" He shifted uncomfortably when his stomach throbbed. "I think he's after Jenova. Cloud was holding her head."

"Jenova?" Barret deeply scowled. "Who the fuck is Jenova?"

"A better question would be what," Zack grumbled, which had Barret arching an eyebrow.

"Jenova is an extraterrestrial lifeform," Aerith answered. "In short, an alien."

"An alien?" Barret's jaw dropped, but when Aerith opened her mouth to explain further, he raised a hand to cut her off. "No, I don't want to know. Shit's crazy enough as it is. Is Jenova dangerous?"

Zack could answer that one. "Yes," he replied, "but only if you get her — their? its? — cells into you. Other than that, it's harmless, basically. Hojo was keeping it contained in a holding tank for a while. Didn't cause any troubles then… What?"

Aerith quickly turned away, but not quick enough to hide her pained expression. "Nothing," she said quickly, in the same choked-off voice she had when she was about to cry. "It's just… let's hurry and find Cloud."

"Yes, let's hurry," Tifa immediately agreed. "Zack, if you still need time…"

"No, no, I'm good." Zack wiggled his fingers; yep, they moved. Good start already. "Um, if the plan is still to keep me along—"

"It is," Aerith interjected.

"—then, Barret, if you don't mind, uh, carrying me…"

"Oh fuck off," Barret said and, in a stunning demonstration of strength, simply stooped down and picked Zack up, with one hand supporting his back while his prosthetic gun supported his legs, like it was nothing. Zack didn't consider himself an easily embarrassed person, but his face burned hot enough to almost make him forget how badly his stab wound hurt. Almost.

Aerith laid a careful hand on his arm. "Are you okay?" she asked at his hiss of pain. Zack mutely nodded, jaw clenched and his forehead dewing with sweat, and Aerith gently squeezed his arm before letting go.

"Let's just hurry," Zack ground out. The movement of being picked up had been too much, and the rocking motion of walking wasn't helping much either. His vision was beginning to blacken around the edges. From some point in the distance, he thought he heard Red say that he had located Cloud's scent. "Hey Aerith, if I…" He swallowed. "If I pass out…"

"I'll be here when you wake up," Aerith promised.

Zack appreciated that — appreciated that more than words could say — but that wasn't what he was getting at, at least right now. "Cloud… He's not himself. Don't hurt him. I don't know…" He shook his head sharply, trying and failing to shake off the dark spots in his vision, but it did no good. He was sinking into it. Everything was muted, and he could hardly hear himself speak anymore. "I don't know if he can… if he can snap out of it this time. But don't hurt him. Please. He hasn't done anything wrong…"

"Zack." Aerith lightly squeezed his hand, and he did his best to squeeze back. "No one here is going to hurt Cloud, I promise. We'll take care of him, just like we're going to take care of you. Okay? So how about you just rest for a bit. Let us handle things for once."

Zack considered this for half a second, then nodded his agreement. Resting sounded like an awesome idea, actually. Except… "He took my sword," Zack mumbled. "He took…"

"We'll get it back," Aerith stated matter-of-factly. There wasn't any doubt in her tone, like that outcome had already been decided, and Zack inexplicably felt… soothed, maybe even comforted. He felt like somehow, someway, things would work out all right. He didn't have to fix this by himself anymore. He wasn't alone.

"Sleep," Aerith murmured. "I'll be here when you wake up."

Zack smiled a bit. "Promise," he managed, and then he was out.


"We're almost there, sir."

President Shinra cast the Turk with the red hair — What was his name, again? — a side eyed glance as he was escorted to his helicopter. This entire charade was unnecessary, in his opinion. He did not need to be walked to his ride like he was some dainty date. No matter what sort of hell Hojo's escaped sample was raising, President Shinra was perfectly confident that he could take care of himself. He did not need to be protected, and he absolutely did not need protecting from the Turks, let alone from three of them.

The tall one in the sunglasses led the group through the corridor, while the red-haired Turk flanked him and the blond, female Turk followed closely behind. All three hand their hands resting on their firearms. All three surveyed the area for possible threats.

What threat could there possible be? President Shinra wanted to scoff. He would have done so, if he had an ounce less of self control. We left from my private office, and we are on our way to my private helicopter. Nothing can get in or out without my permission.

The sunglasses-Turk suddenly looked over his shoulder. "We're here," he announced in a low, gruff voice, and then he pushed the exit door open.

President Shinra was immediately buffeted by the wind. He squinted against the gale, his one arm lifting on instinct while his other hand tightly grasped his briefcase. The helicopter's propellors roared as they spun wildly through the air and whipped dust across the landing field, yet its cockpit was empty; there was no pilot flicking levers and buttons behind the glass.

But that was not what had President Shinra freezing in surprise.

In front of the helicopter was a man in a clean white suit. His sandy blond hair had been slicked back, a mocking smile sharpened his lips, and at his side was a midnight-black, hairless dog that snarled in his direction. Though, dog may be an exaggeration; the hellish hound was one of Hojo's creations, and had blood-red eyes and some sort of long tentacle-like appendage whipping back and forth above its mid-spine.

President Shinra hated that mutt. By definition, that meant that his son Rufus loved the damned creature and named it Darkstar. One was never seen without the other, anymore.

Rufus, who had been leaning against the helicopter, stood up a little straighter when he noticed the party arrive "Father," he said by way of greeting. His voice was hard and cold, though pleasant. "It sounds like you've had a bit of excitement today."

President Shinra schooled his features into neutrality. "Yes," he agreed. There was no use hiding it; he could hear the alarms blaring even though the dull roar of the helicopter. "But it is being taken care of."

"Undoubtedly," Rufus said, and his smile sharpened. There was a joke in there somewhere, but President Shinra seemed to have missed the punchline.

President Shinra did not let that unsettle him, and said instead, "I thought you were at Costa del Sol."

"I was, but something urgent came up."

"Something urgent."

"Yes. You see, I wanted to thank you."

President Shinra froze as if he had been shot — Rufus did not say thank you, not for anything — but he quickly recovered. He did not know what game Rufus was playing, but he was disinterested in playing. "I will not increase your allowance any further. If that was what you were hoping to ask, then stay silent and don't waste my time."

"Can a son not say thank you?" Rufus shot back, but his tone remained polite. Too polite, in fact. He would have to learn to lie better than that if he ever wanted to lead the company one day. "You taught me everything I know: to always win the battles you pick, that money does solve everything, but most importantly—" he reached into his back pocket, and President Shinra's eyes narrowed— "if you want something done right, you have to do it yourself."

President Shinra opened his mouth to ask if Rufus was drunk — it was the only explanation that made sense at the moment — but then he saw the distinct flash of a pistol in his son's hand, and that theory dissolved into something far different.

Ah.

President Shinra turned to the Turks standing around him. They had all taken steps backwards; the blond one was holding a device that jammed incoming signals, which would undoubtedly render all security camera footage useless. The other two were firmly gripping their weapons.

"Sorry, sir," said the red-haired one. "It's nothing personal."

"Don't lie to me," President Shinra replied. "Of course it i—"

Something slammed into his chest. It felt akin to being hit by a truck, if a truck was the size of a thumbnail and was hot and cold all at once. He didn't even feel the pain, first. He was simply shocked at it all. For a moment, his mind viscerally denied that it had been hurt at all.

Then there was a flash, a whir of noise and color and tangled memories: a cold face staring down at him, graded papers on the table, a house, a wife, a crying child with the bluest eyes. My son. The same blue eyes staring at him now, set in an older face, smiling and bright in the face of his murder. My baby boy.

A wink, a blur, a sudden roar of light. The sharp sting of regret. A wheezing, bubbling breath. A sudden wish that he had —

And then there was nothing at all.


Only two chapters to go until the end đź’”

To give you a glimpse into the future: if all goes to plan, chapter 39 will be the last long chapter while chapter 40 will be more of a fluffy happy-ending epilogue that I've been promising since chapter 1. I already have the final paragraph written, actually I'm genuinely so excited for it.

But anyway! You can find me on twitter at Rand0mSmil3z - chapter previews are always posted there first.

Until next time! 🌻