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Chapter V: Questions
Never underestimate a man
who overestimates himself.
~Franklin D. Roosevelt
"Zack." Cloud's quiet voice accompanied his brief knock on the apartment door, above the 7th Heaven.
Zack, raising his head slightly from the pillow, squinted in the morning light, "C-Cloud? What time is it?"
"Eight thirty-two." Cloud responded, equally brief as his knocks.
Zack sighed. When he was on duty, he was proudly up at dawn. But this was supposed to be vacation! Restful! Relaxed! In a word: sleeping in.
"What's up?" he rolled onto his back and shouted through the door of his single, nearly empty, room. Aside from his bed—which was mostly just a mattress-Zack's apartment held only a single bureau, upon which was only a single picture of him and Aerith, when he had taken her up to the broad fields of the North, with their great festivals.
A long mirror hung on the wall across from him, with The First Tsurugi's six sharp pieces lay spread out on a small table beside it—Zack had been cleaning it the night before. A small icebox, kept cold by the Garden's signature mix of magic and technology, held a few morsels of leftover food which Aerith had sent him home with the night before. That was it—simple, minimal, and no stress—just as Zack liked it.
"Rinoa sent me to get you." Cloud answered.
Zack sighed, "Well, you can remind Rinoa that all of us—her included!—" he emphasized, "should be on leave right now!" he paused, "Speaking of that, what are you doing working?"
Cloud didn't immediately respond. "What else would I do?"
Zack sighed again, pulling himself up to sit. The poor kid needed a life! "Tell you what—you come with me today and I'll give you some options."
Cloud seemed to mull it over longer than Zack had expected. "What Rinoa wants is important."
Zack gave one last enormous sigh and finally stood to his feet. "It always is—"
"It's about yesterday." Cloud finally added.
Suddenly, Zack's early-morning mind was transported back to the day before. The boutique, the crazed man, the assassination—a chill of mixed anxiety and excitement ran through him as he dashed for the door. Cracking it open, he looked down at the sharply dressed Cloud.
"Why didn't you start with that?" Zack asked.
Cloud met his gaze with almost ice-blue eyes. "Commander Aeleus wants to speak with you."
"What?!" Zack exclaimed, leaving the door to swing open as he flew to the bureau to dress, "What did he say?"
"I don't know." Cloud responded, standing resolute in the doorway.
"Real helpful, Cloud…" Zack murmured as he ruffled through his clothes; of course Rinoa didn't tell him anything. "Hey, would you mind putting the Tsurugi back together for me?"
He offhandedly gestured to the six sharp blades splayed out atop the table, leading Cloud to glance between it and Zack.
"C'mon, you know how—go on!" Zack encouraged as he changed shirts. Cloud had watched him combine it a million times. "After all, it'll be yours one day, just like with me!"
Finally, Cloud nodded and moved to assemble the weapon, handling each piece with precise care. Zack smiled as he watched him work—he was proud of what his apprentice could do, even he was a little obsessive. And maybe, wherever he was, Angeal was proud of him, too—it wasn't every day that you were summoned by PKF top brass!
"I wish you had let Aerith dress you…" Rinoa groaned as she kept pace with Zack, hurriedly brushing at his shoulder pads and straightening his shirt. As she went to tuck back some of his wild, black hair, Zack slapped her hand away.
"It's gonna be fine, Rinoa! Right, Squall? It's fine."
"Maybe. Maybe it'll be fine." Squall responded.
"Has it even occurred to you that this could, in fact, be a summons for reprimand?" Rinoa tried to dampen Zack's ear-to-ear grin as they passed through the lower halls of Hollow Bastion, reserved for the use of PKF leadership. "You were incredibly reckless."
"Nope, never even entered my mind!" Zack countered.
"Few things enter that head." Squall noted, as Rinoa snorted.
"You're gonna just let them attack me like this, Cloud?" Zack asked, laughing, but Cloud didn't respond—he was trailing behind them, caught up in the majesty of the Bastion's great halls and ornate architecture.
Zack himself had only been inside the Bastion a few times before and never this deep. To his eyes, it had appeared a little more jovial, even this deep, as servants bustled about with preparations for the Princess' birthday the day after tomorrow.
"Oh my! Is this your first time in the Castle?" Rinoa asked. Cloud, hearing her better than he did Zack it seemed, nodded.
"Congratulations! It's about time you saw inside!" Rinoa clapped happily, attention turned from Zack, "It's beautiful, isn't it? A thousand-years standing—it's certainly a testament to its builders!"
"Whoever they were…" Squall murmured.
"Is this it?" Zack asked, as the group pulled up to a large oaken door that matched the description a servant had given them.
Rinoa nodded, "I think so."
Zack reached up a fist to knock, but before he could, the door was pulled open and filled with the giant form of a man—easily twice, almost thrice, Zack's size. His shoulders nearly brushed against each side of the door's frame and his square face appeared carved from stone, topped with dark red hair, brushed-back so as to appear almost like an eruption.
His expression did not change as his small, blue eyes looked over Zack—who gulped noticeably and realized he should have prepared something, anything, to say.
"Zachary Fair?" Commander Aeleus' deep voice inquired.
"Yup." Zack responded quickly, before immediately kicking himself for being so casually himself. He could almost feel Rinoa and Squall's eyes burning holes in the back of his head. "And, er, this is my apprentice, Cloud Strife."
Commander Aeleus looked over Cloud briefly, without either speaking. With a nod, he then acknowledged the others, "Captain Heartilly; Lieutenant Leonhart," and, changing whole swaths of lighting as he moved, Aeleus turned into the room beyond the door.
Zack looked to the others for encouragement, but received only a shameful shake of the head from Rinoa and a frown from Squall. Exhaling, Zack followed the Commander.
Inside the room, flickering by the light of many Fira magic torches, was a long mahogany table, covered in maps and stacks of official documents. The walls, as well, were filled with a variety of listings, orders and assorted assignments.
As Aeleus circled to return to the head of the table, Zack noticed that they were not alone—Commander Dilan sat, legs crossed, in one of the only two chairs at the head. He did not acknowledge the four of them entering; his dark eyes were focused on a folder of documents he was perusing.
Zack tried to steady his breathing. Not just one Commander, but two?! Short of the Royalty and Lord Protector, Zack was now sharing the same space as the ultimate authorities over the PKF-Aeleus, who held sway over domestic defense and other concerns, and Dilan, who oversaw foreign affairs and external projects. These men were heroes—and every private ever to join the PKF looked up to them.
Zack recalled his own training when, in the bunks at night, he and his peers would tell tales of these two—how Dilan had personally led the final victory over the last scattered remnants of the Horned King's empire, fighting amidst the heat of the battle with his twin spears; or how Aeleus, wielding his iron hammer—too heavy for any other man—fended off the hordes of Nibel Wolves that had descended from the northern tundra during the Long Winter, many seasons ago. These were true heroes; men of renown!
"Sirs!" Zack stood formally and saluted. Cloud followed suite, with Rinoa and Squall offering their own; somewhat more casually.
"Corporal Fair, this is regarding your role in the Third District incident yesterday." Dilan made immediately clear, without looking up from his papers.
Aeleus, without any fanfare or intonation, went straight to the point, "You are being promoted to the rank of Investigator, effective immediately, and will be made directly responsible for the ensuing enquiry into what occurred and why."
Shock coursed through Zack, tingling from the tips of his toes to the top of his head. Investigator? That was a special appointment—not just a promotion, but authority over his own assignment! This was unbelievable! Better than he could've dreamed!
"Our estimation is that this will be a relatively minor case," Dilan added, "But if completed to the standards we have come to expect from you, based on Captain Heartilly's reports, you may expect a more…permanent position."
"S-sirs," Zack stumbled, "T-thank you, sirs."
Aeleus acknowledged his gratitude with a brief nod, "It is suggested that you inquire with Master Eraqus. He has been looking into matters relevant to Shinra, as well."
"Is the Shinra Corporation our prime suspect then, Commander?" Zack asked.
"He did not say that." Dilan responded, eyes briefly flitting up to Zack's. "Your oversight extends to two question: first, do the accusations you heard bear any merit, and two, who is responsible for this death."
"Lunatics are not often assassinated for their ravings." Aeleus intoned. "For the present, however, Shinra is merely a relevant party."
"Banon, sir." Zack responded.
"What?" Aeleus responded. Zack could hear a sharp intake of breath from Squall behind him.
"The lunatic, sir. His name." Zack repeated, "His name was Banon."
Aeleus' raised an eyebrow, though Dilan responded, an edge to his deep voice, "Good to see your investigation already begun. Are there any more corrections?"
He gave no response.
"Then you are all dismissed." Aeleus nodded and picked up his own pile of folders.
With another salute, Zack turned and marched from the room, the other three following behind. As soon as the door closed behind them, Zack took a single breath before pumping his fist with a whoop.
"Investigator? Investigator?! Haha!" he cried, already fallen into his habitual squats, "Can you believe it? This is my chance!"
"Congratulations!" Rinoa exclaimed, clapping her hands together, "We know you can do it!"
"Apparently reckless worked. Once." Squall crossed his arms.
"Would you believe that, Cloud?" Zack jumped to his feet and hooked his elbow around the youth's neck, "How's it feeling working under a real-life investigator, huh?"
A faraway look in Cloud's eye, which seemed oddly preoccupied with somethings a-ways down the semi-lit hallway, muted his reply. "I…don't know yet."
"Eh?" Zack prodded, turning Cloud to face him, "C'mon, if you think it's been good up to now—things are about to get way more interesting!"
"Y-yeah!" Cloud nodded, eyes now on Zack, "Definitely!"
For a brief moment Zack felt concern for that distracted look in Cloud's eyes, but the feeling was soon surpassed by the overwhelming excitement of his new promotion! Imagine if he cracked this case? Deaths like this were rare in the Garden and, by now, the whole town had heard of what happened. Get justice for Banon and fame in the process? That was an opportunity not to be passed up. He couldn't wait to tell Aerith!
"Well, Mr. Investigator, what's your first move?" Rinoa asked, eyes twinkling.
"They've still got the scene sectioned off, right?" Zack replied, ignoring the slight pit that formed in his stomach imagining it back there, "I'd say that's where any good investigation starts!"
Zack took a deep breath as he emerged back into the open air of the Third District square. Cordoned off, the boutique was still rather dark and filled with stale air—not unlike his memory of what had occurred there. He hadn't enjoyed it, but his personal comfort was not a part of the job.
As she passed him, Rinoa waved the small bullet casing she held in a cloth, "Remember, it's normally the smallest things that mean the most!"
"So you'll get it checked out?" Zack re-confirmed, wanting to double-check all his bases, "Find out who made it?"
Squall nodded, "We'll have our labs work double time on it."
"Thanks." Zack responded, a slight measure of disappointment clear in his voice. There had been very little else to be found at the boutique—only the disturbed merchandise and small spray of blood around the hole where the bullet had lodged gave any indication that yesterday had ever happened.
Even the Banon's knife, appearing so dangerous in the dark, was actually little more than a remarkably dull kitchen knife; well-used by the look of it. The only thing that could truly be called evidence was that small bullet that now lay in the pocket of Rinoa's blue overcoat.
And that was not enough for Zachary Fair—neither to satisfy his query nor quell the anxiety that stirred in his gut over being back here.
"Not every step is prestigious, Zack." Rinoa comforted with a sly wink.
"Yeah, yeah, I know…" Zack responded, "Just let me know as soon as you hear something!"
"Of course!" Rinoa bowed gracefully, "Keep a good eye on him, Cloud!"
Cloud nodded, almost as if he understood it to be his solemn duty. With a wave, Rinoa hooked her arm through Squall's and together they vanished into the meandering crowds.
Zack noticed then Cloud's expectant eyes upon him, wanting to know—or more importantly, understand—what they were to do next. Time to turn those the expectations back on him.
"So what're our options, Cloud?" he asked.
Cloud, quite accustomed to Zack's educational intention, responded succinctly, "One, speak with Master Eraqus. Two, make contact with Shinra."
Zack nodded, marveling. How had he found himself in any kind of teaching role? He never would've imagined it. "And how would we do that?"
"Like you say," Cloud responded, following after Zack as he began to walk, "It's not what you know, but who."
"Yup! And who do we know?"
"Vincent works at Shinra. And—" Cloud paused, thinking, "Ventus is one of Eraqus' apprentices."
"Exactly!" Zack nodded, as they moved together into the lower levels of the Garden. "And who should we go see first?"
Examining the surroundings, Cloud responded, "You think Shinra."
"Why not just go to the source, y'know?" Zack confirmed, "As a Turk, Vincent's pretty high up—he'll definitely know if something's going on."
"You believe Shinra's behind it?" Cloud asked.
Zack nodded, "Yeah, I do. If you had just...heard him, Cloud. I don't know how to describe it. He—I mean, Banon-was certifiable—but there was just something about him. Something happened to him, and Shinra knows about it."
Cloud nodded, understanding.
"Besides, we'll get more out of Ven's old man if we have done some work ourselves." Zack smiled wryly, "I know I wouldn't want to suddenly give up all my work to some guy who showed up on my door with nothing."
Cloud nodded again, not responding. Zack knew that others might take offense at this, as if Cloud was zoning out of the conversation, but he knew him better. He could see through the kid's stoic exterior—this was just Cloud's way of talking. As few words as possible—and if he had nothing to say, he certainly didn't grope to find something to fill the void.
Luckily, he had him, Aerith and Tifa to fill it for him!
"Y'know, I was actually thinking I might go talk to Ven alone." He offered, watching his steps as they descended a long set of stairs.
"W-what?" Cloud asked, clearly surprised and little concerned about being left out.
"Yeah. He knows me best and, well, I think you have other things to take care of, frankly." Zack replied with a wink.
Cloud stared at him in confusion, although with a slight worry in his eyes that told Zack he had an idea where this was going.
"Things got a little testy with Tifa last night, don't you think?" Zack said pointedly.
"I guess."
"I think you should go surprise her at work and patch things up." Zack jerked a thumb toward his chest, "It works great when I do it!"
"Well, I-" Cloud paused, sentence fragmentary.
"You were already thinking about it?" Zack finished for him.
Cloud didn't respond, but the slight blush to his face confirmed it.
"And you didn't see her this morning at the bar when you came to get me?" Zack pushed further.
"No, I…" he was mumbling now, "I hid."
"Then it's settled!" Zack clapped him on the back, "Besides, you can also deliver a message to Aerith for me while you're getting cleaned up!"
"What's the message?" Cloud asked, but Zack was already looking up at the glistening exterior of the Shinra building.
"I'll tell you later. We're here!"
The Shinra Corporation was rich—and Zack meant really rich. He didn't know whether they rivaled the monarchy, but if they didn't, they had to have come close. The wealth the Shinra family had accumulated manufacturing weapons, using their signature mingling of magic and technology during the prolonged years of the Cauldron War, was prolific—and it showed.
The Shinra building's multiple floors, excepting the foundational ground level, were made almost entirely of glass, hardened by Fira magic—a rare enough substance in a town made mostly of marble and clay. This caused the whole building to nearly glow in the sun without allowing anyone from outside to see in; a beacon erupting from south center of the Garden.
Long and wide, its six floors towered above everything else in this district—in fact, most of this district thrived by serving Shinra and its employees in one way or another. Only the city walls and Hollow Bastion rose higher than Shinra—it even rose almost as tall as the highest districts of the Garden, which circled around Hollow Bastion in ever-ascending plateaus.
Zack raised his hand to knock on the ornately carved mahogany main entrance, emblazoned with the diamond Shinra emblem, before remembering that he was now an investigator—and he thought it time to act like it.
Dropping his hand to the door, Zack simply pushed his way through and into the vestibule of the building, with Cloud following confidently behind him.
Inside, the wealth only became more obvious—plush curtains and rich maroon carpets over perfectly carpentered hickory floors and walls, all lit by the rich light that poured through the glass that rimmed the top of the high entry, above the marbled foundation.
Doing his best to ignore all this, Zack marched promptly to the wide, wooden desk that separated him from numerous doors, stairs and gravira elevators that lined the wall behind it—and to the smiling blonde secretary sitting behind it, manning a board of buttons and screens powered, no doubt, by magic. This technology certainly rivaled that of the PKF high command, which struck Zack with a vague sense of insecurity.
"Can I help you, sirs?" the secretary asked, unperturbed by their surprise entry.
"I'm Investigator Fair," Zack flashed his new badge, perhaps a little too ostentatiously, "And this is my apprentice, Cloud Strife. We're here to talk to Vincent Valentine?"
"Do you have an appointment?" The secretary asked, looking over the colorful board.
"No, but we're friends," Zack swaggered, leaning forward, "He won't mind our surprise."
The secretary, still unimpressed, pressed a half-dozen buttons in order and smiled back at Zack, unimpressed. "I would be more worried about the President's opinion, rather that his. Regardless, he will be down to meet you soon."
Zack, with a shrug and a nod, stepped back to admire again the artistry of the foyer as they waited. Being here was starting to make him uncomfortable—he didn't like all the ritz and finery. It all seemed so fake; pointless and manipulative. Thankfully, the whirring sound of one of the gravira elevators descending started up and, within seconds, Vincent Valentine strode out.
A tall man, Vincent's slim form was accentuated by the sharply tailored black suit that he wore—the uniform of the Turks. Jet-black hair fell short around his face, at times almost obscuring his nearly blood-red eyes. His face itself was a stoic puzzle; beyond any that Zack had ever been able to decipher.
While still in training, Vincent had been a Senior, years ahead of Zack both in age and ability. Because of this, Zack had chosen him to pursue as a partner, despite the fact that most of his peers were intimidated both by Vincent's significant talent and his standoffish isolation.
Vincent had been unresponsive, literally, for months, while Zack had tried every antic imaginable to get his attention and/or interest…and while never knew why-perhaps he was just too amusing-Vincent finally refrained from kicking him out from a training session Zack had forced his way into.
From there, some kind of bizarre friendship had developed and, even while Zack had gone into the PKF and Vincent's talent had rocketed him through the ranks of Shinra's Special Ops division, the two still occasionally sparred together and, on the even more rare occasion, joined Aerith for dinner.
Although, Zack had to admit—though Vincent was painfully polite-those dinners were awkwardly quietly. Why was he surrounded by so many quiet people?!
"Zack, what are you doing here?" Vincent asked, voice monotone-no threat or annoyance to it, just unemotional inquiry.
Zack grinned and put out a hand for Vincent to shake, knowing better than to go for anything closer, "Well, I just got a promotion to Investigator. I'm here for work."
"I see." Vincent's almost-glowing eyes looked over Cloud, who stared back at him, both alike-some kind of mute, bizzaro twins.
"So I'm here to ask you a few questions—I'm looking into the incident in the Third District yesterday, I'm sure you heard about it?" Zack asked, speaking as quietly as possible. It had become obvious no one would be inviting them elsewhere in the building and the Secretary was still eying him with some kind of look.
"Indeed, we all have." Vincent replied, "Banon Amano used to be employed here."
"What?!" Zack exclaimed, surprised at the ease of his first investigative inquiry.
"A bookkeeper." Vincent answered, "He was dismissed two weeks ago. Violent paroxysm."
"That fits with what I saw…:" Zack said to himself, imaging he understood well-enough what Vincent had said, "Before he was assassinated, Banon was rambling about…" looking about the atrium suspiciously, Zack leaned in closer, "crazy experiments here, like, with people."
"Do you believe a madman, Zack?" Vincent asked pointedly, as Zack realized absent-mindedly that Vincent hadn't moved an inch their entire conversation.
Zack shook his head, "I tend to give them some credit when they die for what they're saying."
"Experiments and assassinations—is Shinra your suspect then?" Vincent continued, face stoic.
Zack paused, "I hope not. Do you think it could be?"
"No. Would I be here if that was the case?"
"Well…" Zack mumbled, his voice dropping even quieter, nearly a mumbled whisper, "There's, I mean…Lucretia is here, so…"
Vincent's eyes narrowed, his first movement, along with a twitch in one finger. "Certainly not."
"Right…" Zack trailed off, "Well, Vincent, I trust you, but—"
Suddenly, a second gravira elevator whirred and descended and out from its carven innards emerged a group of three. One was tall and broad-shouldered, dressed as sharply as Vincent, with dark-skin and bald head, sporting only a close-cut goatee, with eyes completely covered by dark glasses.
Opposite him strode, almost stumbling, a shorter man in an equally and utterly unkept suit-unbuttoned to his mid-chest, untucked, with no tie to speak of. His flaming red hair was messily pulled back into a single twisted ponytail and for every inch his fellow stood straight, this one slouched.
But between them was the man most easily recognized: a stunning white suit nearly blinded the eyes, creating almost a glow about him. A black vest was the only contrast on his figure, for his skin was almost as pale as his suit, with striking blonde hair swept up and over his sharp and angled face. His piercing blue eyes turned to examine the small gathering in his atrium, for this all was his: President Rufus Shinra.
But while Vincent turned and saluted, Zack could not care less for people like Shinra. They hadn't earned anything; they weren't heroes. He noticed Cloud didn't react either, although the kid seemed to be watching Rufus rather intently—even concernedly.
"Vincent, we're leaving." Shinra informed, his voice clear and precise. Nodding only the briefest of acknowledgements to Zack, Vincent strode across the atrium to join his two fellow Turks-who Zack could now identify as Reno and Rude, from the few times Vincent had mentioned them—and together they exited.
"What'd you think?" Zack stretched his arms behind his head, as the doors swung closed behind the foursome. "Seems a little too coincidental that Banon worked here-but maybe he was just an angry ex-employee…it just seemed like more, y'know?"
Zack wasn't sure whether he was actually believing his suppositions or not—was he just hoping his investigation was more than it was to justify his new role? Why would Shinra be so obvious as to kill him, if it was them? Was there actually the earnesty in Banon's voice that he recalled?
Cloud spoke quietly, a strain evident in his voice, "I don't like it here."
"What?" Zack asked, "Are you alright?"
"I don't trust it." Cloud said, bright eyes flittering across the room, as if looking for something. Zack noticed with confusion that Cloud's knuckles were white as snow, clenched in tight fists as his eyes roved the lobby.
"Yeah…" Zack said, attention shifting from the investigation to Cloud—the kid needed to do something else for a little while, "I think you've got a good instinct there. But whatever it is, Vincent doesn't seem to know it."
Cloud didn't respond, so Zack continued, "I guess I'll see if Ven's old man has any information that might connect some of these dots…"
Just then, the secretary spoke up, "Excuse me, gentlemen, if that is all, Shinra does not to encourage loitering."
"Last one, I promise!" Rinoa announced from behind the dressing room door. For his part, Squall only sighed and leaned more heavily against the wall. That meant another three, at least. After dropping off the bullet for analysis, Rinoa had dragged him to this store so that they could "get equipped" for the ball.
Now, here he was, just watching while she tried on dress after dress. What a way to spend a break.
"I only noticed-Dilan gave you a look." Squall said, continuing an earlier conversation. "What if he knows? Dilan especially—that would be very bad."
A small sigh interrupted the constant humming that came from within the dressing room, "He doesn't."
"Right," Squall replied, "But what if he does?"
"You said you handled the reports, right?" Rinoa's voice emanated.
"Yes, but I'm smart enough to know I'm not perfect," Squall replied. "What if someone else saw you?"
"You know what I think?" Rinoa asked, popping her head through the door, "I think you're just mad at me because I did it."
"It was reckless. You didn't need to do it." Squall retorted as she disappeared back inside.
"That family would have died otherwise, and you know it." came her contention. "How could I let that happen?"
"You could have been subtler, at least." He answered.
"You wouldn't know, but it's very hard to hide those things." Rinoa responded, as the door opened, "I think you're just getting worrisome in your old age."
"You're older than me," The twenty-two year-old Squall responded.
"Hey! Don't insult me!" Rinoa smirked back, "What do you think?"
Squall tried to hide his smile and raised eyebrows-he refused to give away too much to her. But he had to admit, he had fallen in love with a gorgeous girl. She had chosen a slightly off-white dress that left her shoulders bare, as the straps wrapped her neck to meet in the center of her chest. Her strong but delicate arms were hooked behind her back as she leaned forward to get his attention, sending the skirt of the dress swirling about her mid-thigh.
The dress was so simple, but when combined with the deep brown of her eyes, the way her hair fell across those shoulders, the knowing smile on her lips-
Obviously he didn't do a sufficient enough job obscuring his reaction, because Rinoa winked, "That's all I need to know."
"G-good." Squall intoned, recovering as best he could manage.
"Look, I appreciate you having somehow become more worried about this than me, Squall," Rinoa strutted to him and placed a finger on his nose, "But if even Aerith and Zack don't know, I'm sure no one else does."
"You have to be more careful." He stoically responded, proud of maintaining his composure in the face of her untroubled spirit. Someone had to be the serious one here—and he had good reason to be.
"Dilly-dally, shilly-shally." She flashed a smile as she flicked his nose and turned away, "Now let's get you something, huh?"
Aerith drew up the woolen blanket around Merlin's bony shoulders. This beloved old man dozed off for an afternoon nap quite regularly now and Aerith had taken it upon herself, whenever she was home early enough, to ensure that he stayed warm in these opening autumnal chills and that whatever book he had been reading was put safely back in some home.
She touched a hand to his wrinkled cheek—this old wizard, who had given so many of his years to raising her, a child not even his own. He had done so well, done so much-she couldn't have asked for anything better. Of course, she had often wondered about her parents, but poor Merlin only knew so much about this poor orphan he had adopted and, in the face of a good life, Aerith had found most of her questions to feel as ephemeral as a distant voice on the wind.
Near the front of the house, Aerith only just heard the door creak open and be gently closed. They had plenty of people coming in and out of the house, but Aerith could tell by the sensitive way the door moved that it was Cloud—Cid kicked the door open more often than not, Zack perpetually forgot to not let it slam shut behind him, Squall and Rinoa were almost always together and opened longer, and Tifa wouldn't have made a sound. No, this was Cloud.
She lifted the book from Merlin's lap and placed it on a nearby pile, careful to mark the page, as she moved to meet the young man. It had taken awhile for her to convince Merlin to take in another "stray", but she had eventually won the day when she told him it was what he had taught her to do; that taking in someone like this was something she needed to do; to share in the fullness and grace that Merlin had given her.
She had learned of Cloud and Tifa, essentially drifters from the outer territories, when she had recognized the signs of homelessness on their recurrent visits to the clinic she, at the time, had been training in.
After getting to know them, Aerith had insisted on finding them a place to live—she would've taken them both in, but Merlin didn't have the space. It had been Tifa who approached her privately, quietly insisting that they take in Cloud, if either of them. She had said that he needed them more.
Such sacrifice had broken Aerith's heart and, through her new boyfriend Zack, she had also found Tifa an apartment and job at the 7th Heaven, where he himself was living. Cloud and Tifa were only a bit younger than they, and the four had become fast friends once settled. Aerith was delighted to help them, just like Merlin had helped her.
Rounding the artificial corner made by stacks of dusty books, Aerith came to face said young man and his spiky hair, who spoke first.
"Zack gave me a message for you."
"Oh?" Aerith raised an eyebrow, hands on her hips, "And what's that?"
"'I'm pretty sure I still love you more than my new promotion'"
"Oh?" Aerith, to her shame, couldn't help but let out a short, stifled laugh. Typical Zack. Even stranger coming from Cloud's mouth. "Wait, what promotion?"
"Investigator. This morning."
A thrill of happiness filled Aerith on Zack's behalf—he must be so pleased; and she was certainly so proud! She'd have to make some cake or something! But then, she had to wonder- "Is it for what happened yesterday?"
Cloud only nodded.
That concerned her—Zack so close still to that tragedy. She knew it still deeply troubled him, "Will you be going back to him?"
Cloud shook his head, "No."
"Where are you off to, then? Aerith asked, curious as she stepped out of his way—he didn't often leave Zack's side.
His mumbled response came as he rounded the corner and disappeared, "To see Tifa."
Aerith sighed hopefully. That was good. She was worried about how…disagreeable they had been as of late. She had met them together, after all-friends since childhood, she was sure. They had seemed to know each other with a familiarity bred only by years of friendship. But ever since Cloud joined the PKF, things seemed to have gotten worse and worse between them, with the night before only another in a long string of tussles-continually dashing Aerith's hopes of being their official matchmaker.
She hated to admit it, but Aerith knew that if she was to assign responsibility, much of it lay with Cloud. It had seemed impossible, but he had only gotten quieter and more remote since they met and Tifa, dear Tifa, always eager to pursue him, had only pushed Cloud further away. His only outlet seemed to be his work with Zack, but no one seemed to quite understand why.
"What're you going to say?" Aerith asked as Cloud returned, clearly having only washed his face and brushed briefly at his wild spikes of blonde hair.
"I'm sorry." He said matter-of-factly, as he moved gently past Aerith, "Because she was right."
"About?" Aerith questioned the back of his head.
"The PKF." He paused, head tilted slightly toward the window, "There's a reason why Zack first assumed it was the PKF who killed that man."
Aerith, somewhat stunned by Cloud's voluntary conversation, responded simply, "He—he's told me."
The PKF got away with a lot when they were far from the Garden.
"We try to do the right thing," Cloud continued, now clearly staring out the window. Aerith couldn't tell at what—only her rhododendrons and marigolds, in their final bloom, could be seen through it. "But maybe it's not enough."
"What do you mean, Cloud?" Aerith responded.
"I thought…" his voice became quiet, "I thought they would make me strong. Help me fight. But—"
"Zack would understand if you, well, left—" Aerith began hesitantly.
"No." Cloud interrupted, eyes glued now to her flowers, "He's the only one there that helps. Him, Squall, Rinoa…"
"Cloud," Aerith took a step forward, pulling his eyes to her, "We're all here for you—you're stronger with us, with Tifa, not by yourself; even without the PKF."
It took a moment for his eyes to refocus on hers. "Whatever you need, you can talk to us about it."
His eyes flickered again to the window before meeting hers again with a renewed clarity, yet also somehow walled off again. "Thank you, Aerith."
Aerith gestured to the window as she lowered her hand, "Something out there seems to have your attention, huh?"
"It's nothing." Cloud responded, straightening his PKF jacket. With a nodded goodbye, he left, closing the door as gently as he had upon entering.
As Aerith turned to gather the few remaining supplies from about the house that she needed to complete the work on her dress for the Princess' birthday ball, her thoughts were no longer set upon excitement, but worry; a humming song of anticipation was replaced by the anxious sighs of trepidation.
Something had hurt Cloud so deeply, even before he came to the Garden—something that closed him right up. And that something had only gotten worse, it seemed. Somehow, they were failing to get to him. What did he need? How could they reach him? Was the PKF more harm than help? She needed to talk to Zack.
As she returned to the hallway, Aerith glanced between the window and the door, watching the top of Cloud's spiky head finally pass out beyond her gardens and into the streets. There she stood, and did not move for a time.