-Chapter 5-

A Temporary Calm

Toll no bell for me, father, but let this cup of suffering pass from me.

Send me no shepherd to heal my world, but the angel the dream foretold.

Prayed more than thrice for you to see the wolf of loneliness in me.

Not my own will, but yours be done.

A week had come and gone since Cloud confessed to Tifa about his nightmares, and very little could be shown of it. Reeve naturally would not pick up his phone, and when any of the group had attempted to enter the usual meeting offices they visited in the past, they were turned away. This set a sort of unease among the companions, making them feel like prisoners in a sense. And yet Cloud knew that Reeve was merely doing what he thought was best for the safety of his friends and the entirety of Edge herself. Then again, were that the case, why weren't they doing something about Yuffie right then?

Cloud and Tifa lay upon their bed, their naked bodies pressed close together and a thin sheet thrown over them, Tifa sighing a content and satisfied sound. Outside, the sun began to wane in the sky, disappearing behind a skyline and the orange and red sky slowly turning purple, then dark blue, and then finally black.

"I wonder what's gonna happen next," Cloud commented out of the blue, arm thrown behind his head, and the other wrapped around his lover.

She looked up at him, having rested her head upon his chest, "No one really knows, right? We're just sort of treading water right now..."

"...while we know exactly where Yuffie is, and nothing is being done." Cloud scoffed.

Tifa sat up then, letting the sheet fall from her body, "We don't know that, Cloud. Do you really think Reeve is ignoring the situation?"

Cloud managed a shrug, "Not really, but sometimes I wonder if Reeve and Rufus aren't cut of the same cloth."

"Huh?"

"Remember when Rufus first announced the construction of this tower, merging ShinRa with the WRO and all that?"

Tifa nodded.

"Reeve isn't completely ignoring the matter I know," Cloud continued, "he's made it crystal clear that he cares for her as much as the rest of us. But, maybe he's getting his priorities way out of order."

The woman considered the words, "I don't condone us just sitting here either Cloud, don't get me wrong. But we also can't judge what we don't know."

Cloud shrugged again, "I know, but... after everything that we've done, all the fighting, and now we're stuck here? We can't even leave and go back to our home?"

"You're not getting shell-shock and post-traumatic stress on me, are you?" Tifa eyed the male.

"No, of course not. It isn't boredom either, but... well, I really don't know what it is."

"You want to rescue Yuffie," Tifa determined, laying her head back onto his chest.

"It's like..." Cloud thought for a moment, "Once again, everything that's happened, all of this time, weeks? Months? I can't remember anymore, but we never knew if she was alive or dead. Now we have a lead."

She managed a giggle, still not completely used to him spilling his thoughts, but still happy for the change. Here, she threw her body over his, straddling his waist and leaning down to place a moist kiss to his lips, "We're going to get her back, Cloud. We didn't fight this far for nothing, right?"

He nodded, smiling, "You're right."

"We've fought worse things, right?" She added, "Batting aside a few thousand rebels isn't as hard as we thought it would be."

Now, Cloud had a mischievous glint in his eye, "Not as hard as other things."

Instantly her cheeks flushed as red as her eyes, but they too soon had the same glint within them. Before she knew it she was upon her back, laughing as Cloud flipped her over and then pressed his body down against hers.

"Nothing better to do, right?" He had said mere moments before kissing her again.

She whimpered behind his lips, nodding eagerly, when suddenly her cellphone went off, a loud and obnoxious sound. Tifa threw her head back and groaned out loud, "Ugh! Why now!"

Cloud sighed, moving off of the woman to lay on his side as Tifa reached for her phone. "Who is it? Reeve?"

Tifa shook her head, "Text message from Cid, said he wants to talk. He and Barret are in the lobby on the bottom floor."

Cloud thought for a moment, wondering if it were too late to save the moment, "He say what about?"

"Just said it's important and that we should hear it from him first." Tifa answered.

"Well... so much for round three, huh?" He said with a smirk.

Again Tifa blushed, she slapping him on the chest and then kneeing him off the bed to land in the floor. Both of them laughed afterward, then quickly set about showering and getting dressed.

An hour later, they stepped out of the elevator and on the bottom most floor of the Tower. To their right was the five large glass doors that led in and out of the place; each side, inside and out were blocked off by a wall of WRO marines with loaded weapons. On the outside, the soldiers there stood behind concrete barriers, razor wire strung between each one of them. Tifa noticed this with a saddened look.

"Starting to feel less and less like home,"

Cloud nodded, "Can't really blame Reeve. If the Brotherhood got an assassin in the Tower, they might could again."

She glanced up as they walked, "Do you think that will happen, though?"

He turned back to regard her, smirking, "Don't worry, Tifa. I'll protect you." Then wrapped an arm around her shoulder and kissed her cheek.

She giggled at that, wrapping an arm around his midsection, "My hero."

They continued on down the marble floor, with people and soldiers always rushing this way and that, most never giving them more than a first look; others ignored them completely. The general clamor of people talking, fax machines and cell phones beeping and going off turned into a dull roar, Cloud casually glancing around at this person and that. After a time, he attempted to drown out the sound, and thought back to simpler days. When he, Tifa, and the children Marlene and Denzel, and even Barret still lived at the Seventh Heaven. Back then, he was almost certain that things were going to be normal, and that he wouldn't have to fight anymore. As if... they were all turning into a real family. And then seemingly overnight, that normality, that stability of a peaceful family life was shattered.

"My heart bleeds for you, Cloud," Sephiroth's voice chuckled in Cloud's mind.

Cloud pushed the voice and the negative thoughts away, walking on while grasping Tifa's hand. It was war, and thus these things had to happen. At least the children were safe, and at least Barret had returned to them, though Cloud had to wonder for how long? Things would go back to normal; Vincent, Yuffie, even Cait and Red... they would all survive and see each other again.

Finally, the pair rounded a corner and entered the lobby and bar area, and took only a moment to find their other friends. Both Cid and Barret were sitting at the bar, engaged in conversation about one thing or another. Barret's left hand held a brown beer bottle, while Cid twirled a scotch glass, filled halfway with dark brown liquor, in his hand a couple times before taking a short sip.

"It's only eight-thirty at night," Tifa commented as she and Cloud came closer.

"Never too early to start, Tifa!" Cid laughed.

Before Tifa could process another thought, she had been pulled into an embrace by Barret, "Yo, I'm so sorry, Tifa! About hittin' ya I mean!"

Tifa smiled, patting the large man on the back a few times, "It's okay, Barret. I knew it was an accident."

Barret pulled away, nodding, "Didn't seriously hurt ya, did I?"

"No, of course not." Here she flexed her right hand, knuckles popping loudly, "Made of stronger stuff than I look, right?"

Cid raised his glass, "I'll drink to that!" Then took another swig of the alcohol.

At that point, the female bartender walked over, nodding to Tifa and Cloud, "Get you folks anything?"

"I'll have a beer, I guess," Cloud nodded.

"Just water for me, thanks." Tifa added.

"Aw, c'mon Tifa!" Cid complained, "Celebrate a few minutes of peace with the guys!"

She forced a smile, sitting between Barret and Cloud, "Didn't we have this conversation once? I don't drink, Cid."

"Oh, hell with that!" Cid went on, sliding his glass towards Tifa, "Here! Have a sip of mine!"

She pushed it away instantly, still smiling, "Maybe later, okay?"

Cloud received his beer, and took a long guzzle from it, making a satisfying sound after. He knew that with his mako-infused blood, the alcohol would have virtually zero effect on him regardless of how much he drank. All the same, it settled his nerves, "Right so... what's so important that couldn't wait til later?"

"Why?" Cid smirked, eyeballing both the other blonde and Tifa, "Did I interrupt something?"

Tifa blushed and looked away, which made Cid laugh. Barret whispered to the other two, "Yo, don't mind him. He's been drinking for the past two hours."

"Ah, I'm just kiddin'." Cid sobered up, "But I got wind of some serious shit going down, though. Here, take a look at this."

Cid then reached into a bag at his feet and pulled out a small device resembling a miniature television. He flipped a tiny switch, then pressed an adjacent button, and pushed it towards Cloud and Tifa, the former quickly picking it up as the screen showed what appeared to be more war footage. The picture showed WRO soldiers gunning people down, using rocket launchers and flame throwers to demolish buildings. The screaming was only silenced by the rapid gunshots, and the shaky camera showed different 'battles', though it more resembled a slaughter.

"Brotherhood supporters?" Cloud asked once the screen faded to black.

Cid shook his head, a serious look in his eyes, "Supposedly that was Carth, south of Kalm. Innocents, Cloud."

Tifa and Cloud gasped at the same time, though it was the former who spoke, "But why would the WRO...?"

Barret then spoke, "No idea what'n the hell's goin' on, Tifa! But the last we heard Reeve is trying to contain this as much as possible!"

"When did anyone become aware of this?" Cloud went on.

"'Bout three days ago I think?" Cid wondered, "Word of mouth says this video was taken about a week ago though."

"Cid just 'accidentally' found it a few hours ago." Barret confirmed.

"It might explain why Reeve has been in hiding this entire time," Tifa said.

"But if that really is Carth, and innocents..." Cloud thought, "...then why are WRO soldiers killing them?"

"Ain't it obvious, foo'?" Barret snorted, "It's gotta be another Brotherhood tactic!"

"Or maybe they're defectors, traitors... Brotherhood loyalists." Tifa whispered.

"Well, one way or another this is going to be bad shit for overseas support and recruitment!" Cid huffed.

"No kidding," Cloud agreed, taking another sip of beer, "People assume that we either kill innocents, or at the very least don't care who gets caught in the crossfire... they'll think us no better than the rebels."

Tifa slowly rubbed her temples with one hand, softly groaning. "Women and children... gods... it always seems to get worse and worse."

"We knew that they were merciless, but..." Cloud gazed down the neck of the beer bottle, "Women and children? Why doesn't Reeve just bomb Fort Condor and Junction Town and be through with it?"

"Could be a moral issue," Cid offered, taking another sip of booze.

"Pah!" Barret huffed, "Moral my ass! Drop a fire bomb on that place and wipe 'em all out!"

A nearby soldier overhead the last bits of the conversation, turning from his table to face the foursome, "Sorry to interrupt, but... the higher-ups look at it like this. Whatever, or whomever is occupying the Fort now, it has always been a symbol of hope."

"How can people still look at it like that now," Cloud replied, turning to face the soldier, "when it's under the iron thumb of an army of terrorists?"

The soldier shrugged, "It's also a national landmark of sorts I guess, or so my father used to tell me; a bit of history."

"Shit, the only history it's gonna be remembered from now on as the root of all evil!" Cid threw in.

Yet again the soldier shrugged, pushing a half-eaten plate of food away and standing up after retrieving his red cover, "Or it could be that some of the powers-at-be used to live in or around the Fort. Anyway, just my two cents. You folks have a good night," And left the area.

The companions didn't say another word at first, with Cloud further digging into the thought. Regardless of any nostalgic or personal reasons, if it was known for certain where the main enemy hub was, the obvious choice would be to nuke the place and be done with it all.

"Maybe we don't have the necessary firepower," Cloud finally said.

Three pairs of eyes turned and stared at him.

"I mean," Cloud offered, "I think Reeve himself said at one point that the WRO are still an infant organization, compared to the old Shinra corporation. So maybe, right this second, Reeve doesn't have any bombs powerful enough to successfully nuke the Fort?"

"Hence the Northern Glacier operation," Tifa responded.

None of them noticed right then, but a pair of elite marines, answering personally to Reeve, had entered the area, scanned the room once, then headed right for them.

"I still call bullshit!" Cid said a little louder than the others liked, "Shera can drop several nukes at once! You see what I did to that big ass canon truck thing at Junon!"

"Well, we can sit here and throw around conspiracy theories until the chocobos come home. One way another, we can't do anything until Reeve decides to show himself again." Cloud replied.

"So," Barret put in, after finishing off his beer, "what do you suggest, Spikey? We sit here an' keep wringin' our hands? Sittin' on our thumbs?"

Cloud shrugged, "What else do you suggest, Barret? We can't leave here, and... uh, can we help you?"

At that moment, the two soldiers stepped towards the table the companions had been seated at, the latter all looking up to stare at the newcomers. Both soldiers had their rifles slung over their shoulders, sporting the black and gray colors of the elite marines, and matching black covers over their heads. One of them had a leather satchel in his right hand; this one nodded to Cloud, and spoke.

"Apologies for the interruption, but I've got some good news for you all. Well, maybe good news."

"What is it?" Cloud asked, rising to meet the soldier's gaze.

Suddenly, a smaller figure appeared on the soldier's shoulder, twirling mid-air and landing in a sitting position, "Ahoy, friends!"

"Fuck-shit!" Cid swore, having started so suddenly he spilled the rest of his drink, "How many of you freaks are there!"

The Cait doll smiled, waving to the companions, "Ack, I'm so sorry fer' not bein' in contact, an' also fer' havin' ta send another Cait down; too, too much goin' on!"

"Reeve?" Tifa stood up now, "What in the world is happening? You just dropped off the planet after that last meeting, and..."

Now the doll had a sad expression, ears drooped, "I knew ye all are tired o' hearin' this, but..."

"Everything's gonna be explained eventually, but not right now," Barret snorted an angry sound after.

"Too much ta' explain!" The Cait doll replied quickly, "Too many things ta' set in motion! Tha' real Cait an' Nanaki are under attack even now!"

"The real Cait?" Cid said suspiciously, "Hold up hold up! You mean the cat in Cosmo Canyon isn't controlled by you?"

"That doesn't matter right now," Cloud threw in quickly, "but what do we need to know, Reeve?"

"Afraid that Cait has a mind o' it's own!" The doll answered, then shook it's head, "Ye all needn't worry! Once tha' overseas operations are complete an' tha' Cosmo Canyon operation is secured, we'll all speak again!"

"A week of no contact and now this is all you have to say!" Cid spat.

The two soldiers exchanged a look, and before the situation looked to worsen, the Cait doll jumped up and down, "Oi! I come bearin' a sort o' peace offerin'! Corporal James, if ye would!"

The marine with the satchel quickly fished into the leather sack, removing four ID cards, which he placed upon the table, and then stepped away. Each of the four reached out to discover they were sort of security cards, each with their own respective names, clearance codes, and even photos of themselves.

"Damn, I look rode hard and put away wet in this picture!" Barret managed a laugh, "Where'n the hell did you get this ugly mug?"

"And what exactly are these, Reeve?" Tifa looked to the doll.

"Mine own peace offerin'," The doll went on, "It might be a minute before that meetin' can be called. An' so, all four of ye' are now free ta' leave tha' tower, an' can even come an' go aboot tha' Tower, to an extent!"

"Why do I get the feeling there's a catch?" Cid mumbled.

"Jus' a personal request, from one friend to four others!" Cait said, "I don' want any rogue stuff, lads! Ye' aren't quarantined to tha' city, but I beg ye all not ta' try an' take on these battles yer'selves!"

There was yet another pause, as Cloud looked first to Tifa, and then to Barret and Cid in turn, and each of them nodded their silent agreement. Cloud himself then glanced down at the card in his hands, before he too nodded at himself and tucked the thing in his pocket.

"Sounds fair to me, Reeve," He answered, "no rogue stuff."

Cait nodded it's tiny head, "I trust ye all know ta' watch what ye say an' to whom as well, should ye venture outside tha' Tower?"

"We're not idiots, prez!" Cid said.

"Don't worry, Reeve," Tifa's voice came next.

Again the doll nodded, this time with a smile, "I'll leave ye all to it, then! An' don't worry, I'll be in touch soon!" Then with a click the doll fell limp to be caught by one of the marines. After, these two saluted, and left.

"So now what, foo'?"

Cloud thought for a moment, looking to Tifa, "I'm not sure about the rest of you, but I don't feel very... adventurous tonight. One more night in here probably won't hurt much."

Tifa's eyes agreed with him wholeheartedly, "First thing in the morning, maybe?"

Cloud smiled in answer, "Sounds good to me."

Cid stood up with a huff after pushing his chair back from the table, "Well, suit yourselves! I'm gonna take my happy ass outside for a while!"

Barret followed suit, "Hell I'll join ya, get some fresh air for once!" Then glanced at Cloud and Tifa with a wink, "Let the lovebirds have their privacy!"

Tifa in answer picked up a handful of nearby napkins and threw them at the dark-skinned man's face, who was showered with sheets of white a moment later, "Oh, get out of here you two!"

Both Barret and Cid walked away laughing, Tifa sighing, but not unhappily, "I swear, men never grow up."

Cloud made a sound, "No, we just get bigger toys."

She gently punched him in the arm with a smirk, "Careful, Strife, or that round three won't ever happen."

Here he stood up, reaching out to take her by the hand, "Yes, ma'am." C'mon, let's at least step right outside and get a little air ourselves."

And so they did, stepping just far enough away from the entrance to the Tower that street lights weren't directly above them. It was a crisp and cool night, with a very light breeze, though it wasn't too uncomfortable. Stars wheeled by overhead, twinkling in and out of sight like so many sparkling eyes, and the large pale moon looked down as though a silent guardian. Tifa leaned her head into the crook of Cloud's neck; a perfect fit, and slowly began to smile, enjoying that moment. He put an arm around her, a pair of nearby soldiers turning away from them to give the couple a bit of privacy. They stood there for several long minutes, not saying a word, never moving from the spot, only enjoying the relative peace and quiet, and above all else, each other.

Cloud let his mind trail away from the moment as thoughts began to whirl around inside his head. He wondered where Vincent was at that moment, and how his own trials were going; could it be possible that maybe he was looking at the moon as well, right then? And Yuffie, Cloud hoped with all his might that when they found the girl that she was completely whole. Reeve had mentioned that the real Cait and Red were under attack right then? He didn't think to question the president about it right then, as he knew the predictable answer; that everything would be explained later. He couldn't speak much for Cait Sith's fighting prowess, but knew that Red and his warriors were more than capable of handling their own. Unless of course, they were being attacked by the rebels. Could that even be possible, that the militia had gotten a foothold so far away? Unlikely, he thought.

Tifa on the other hand thought of very different things, not the least of which being what the future held for her and her family. In the past, she had worried that another calamity like Meteor would threaten their existence and future; now however, it seemed far more likely they would meet their end by the sword or a Brotherhood bullet. But she knew her strengths, Cloud's, all of their friends and allies, and so that wasn't so much a concern to her, now that she knew what the enemy was capable of. Next she thought of Yuffie, feeling elated that soon they were going to get a valuable member of their extended family back. And then Tifa thought of the other thing, wondering if maybe she and Cloud wouldn't soon be adding to that family? She looked up at him now, he staring into the star speckled sky and seemed lost in his own thoughts. She would eventually have to tell him, she knew, especially if she were truly pregnant. But... how? When? Right then, maybe? Was it a good time?

Just then he looked down at her and smiled a small smile, "What is it, Tifa? You look like you wanna tell me something."

She hesitated, smiling back, "I... hm."

She knew that a baby was a complete and total game-changer, and that she would be unable to fight. She would be forced to stay behind while her friends and her lover left, to risk their lives while she did nothing. The more she thought about it, the more the smile slowly faded from her mouth, she not even realizing it. Were she pregnant, she would not regret it in the slightest, and yet Cloud leaving her and fighting again would bring a familiar sense of deja vu, even if the circumstances and situation were very different. That did not save the moment, however, and she turned her eyes away from Cloud.

"Hey, you all right?" Cloud had asked.

"I'm okay," She replied quicker than Cloud expected, "come on, it's getting cold. Let's head back." Then slowly drew away from him and walked back towards the Tower.

Cloud watched her go, wondering where that had come from; just a minute ago everything was fine, and they were happy. While she didn't appear to be upset or angered, something had changed in Tifa. And just how deep that change ran, he had no idea, nor could he begin to guess. Deciding to question her about it later, he followed after her back inside the building.

~ ` ` ` [VII] ` ` ` ~

~ ` ` ` [Costa del Sol] ` ` ` ~

Tara stepped off the gangplank of the Garland, looking all around her. WRO soldiers, guns held close, were aplenty, and people rushed by her to board the recently docked ship. She took all of this in for a moment, stepping aside as a small team of marines, a thick and large crate hoisted over their heads, shambled by and began onto the ship. She stood there for a long time, always looking around for a sign of thick black hair or a tattered red cloak; she knew he couldn't have gotten off before her, as she was one of the first few to disembark. After about an hour and still seeing no signs of Vincent, the woman turned and started into the city itself.

She encountered her first obstacle when she came upon a thick line of marines, who were stopping anyone entering or leaving the docks, and were questioning people, checking belongings, and the like. A slight panic rose within her then, as she was unsure whether to be truthful or try and deceive her fellow soldiers. She swallowed her panic, and continued forward.

"Hold it," A burly male marine commanded her, "Afraid we're gonna have to pat you down and search your bag, ma'am."

Tara then recalled her assault upon she ship, the thought of another man touching her making her stomach curdle. However, a petite female not much younger than herself stepped forward, and nodded. Still reluctant, Tara knew there was no way to avoid this one, as any sign of hesitance would be considered suspicious. And so, she threw her bag down upon the docks, a pair of marines descending upon it and beginning to go through it's contents. The female soldier patted Tara down from neck to heel, but finding nothing on her person.

"Right," The original soldier had asked her, stepping closer, "What's your name?"

Again Tara panicked, but kept her face neutral; she knew she couldn't successfully lie to a fellow soldier, "Tara Norfolk."

The soldier scribbled a note, the name not seeming to mean anything to him, "Reasons for coming here?"

"Just trying to escape the fighting on the mainland." She responded quickly.

He caught on to her apprehension, and the way her words came out quickly, "Are you all right, Miss Norfolk?"

Tara nodded, still forcing her face to remain expressionless, "I'm fine, really. Just been a long trip and I've seen so many things and..."

Right then, another male soldier stepped forward, whispered something into the apparent leader's ear, and then turned to Tara, "Are you a soldier, Miss Norfolk?"

Thinking back to her arrival in Junon, she impulsively shook her head.

"How then," The burly soldier said, "do you explain these?" And held up in his hands both her pistol and her trusted survival knife that had saved her life so many times.

Tara froze.

"Standard issue nine millimeter, nine bullets plus one in the chamber," The second soldier said, "and on the blade close to the hilt is a special engraving and laser stamp, given only to soldiers of the WRO."

"Which means, Miss Norfolk," The commander went on, "You're lying to us one way or another. Either you are a fellow soldier, or you're a thief, or even a rebel, and stole these from a dead marine. Now, which is it?"

Tara noted then that two more marines had appeared behind her, their guns still pointed down, but held at a readier grip. A hard lump had since formed in her throat, knowing she had hit a snag of sorts. "I'm just another refugee, I swear."

"Then how did you come by weapons that only a WRO marine are authorized to carry?" Another male asked.

"Someone must have slipped them in my bag before I disembarked," Tare replied, trying to keep her voice even.

"And what soldier would give up their weapons to a supposed refugee?" Yet another marine had asked her; by now four of them stood tightly around her. She said nothing, and froze again.

At a nod from the leader, one of the marines behind Tara raised his rifle, aimed at her back, whilst the one beside him slung his own weapon across his back, and quickly snatched the woman's arms behind her back. Tara, on instinct, began to struggle and kick, which only caused the other soldiers to raise their weapons at her and causing many others to stop and stare. Despite how hard she fought to be free, a second, larger male soldier stepped forward, and before Tara knew it, her feet had left her and she was slammed upon her stomach against the stone ground. Her breath left her, pinned down by the two men above her, but still she struggled to be free. She felt zip ties snap and tighten around her wrists, before she was hauled back to her feet to come face to face with the leader of the dock security; that is, the one who had originally stopped her.

"The way you fight and struggle tells me you're much more than a simple refugee... whoever you are," He said, "As of right now you're being detained."

"On what grounds?" Tara spat, now glaring daggers at the man before her.

The man's features remained neutral, "Costa del Sol is at security level three, any and all suspicious activity, no matter how fickle it might be, has to be looked into. Your story doesn't match up, and so we're only taking precautions."

"I'm on a mission from..." Tara started, but the man's stern voice cut her off.

"Save it for the local council, until then you're being placed in a holding cell, assuming we can find an empty one. Take her away, boys." Then waved the others away, wasting no time in halting another person coming in off the docks.

The two soldiers then ripped Tara in the opposite direction, and she felt two" strong hands gripping her shoulders, fingers digging into the muscles there. Her heart beat a mile a minute, thinking that her journey and all the tasks before her had ended before they ever truly began.

"Hold it!"

Suddenly, the soldiers froze in their tracks, the ones holding Tara included, and all turned to face the voice, and the woman could hardly believe what she saw. The first thing she noticed was Vincent, marching quickly down the wooden docks and onto the stone walkways of the outer city; he did not look at all amused. He was accompanied by another man of the same height, but he was obviously a sailor judging by the blue and black camouflaged uniform he wore; he too had a stern and unappealing look on his face.

The head soldier turned to the two newcomers, "What news, sailor? And you in the red, stay where you are!"

"No," The sailor said sternly, "Chief Petty Officer Carl Adams, of the Garland," He introduced himself, and then quickly fished a slip of paper from his pocket, and slapped it into the waiting soldier's hands.

The soldier slowly opened the paper and began to look it over, "What's all this, then?"

The chief officer nodded, "Orders direct from Rear Admiral Price, from President Tuesti," and both names caught the marines' attention, "Mr. Valentine here, and Miss Norfolk there, are on a secret mission on behalf of the prez. Neither are to be harmed, and are expected to be treated with the utmost respect. You'll find the signatures all there."

A heartbeat later, the marines holding Tara released her, snapping the ties free of her wrists and taking a step back, looking shame-faced. The others not questioning still other civilians saluted.

The commanding marine stood in front of Tara again, "Deepest apologies, ma'am. But I hope you understand the caution." And then placed the signed slip of paper into her hands.

Tara accepted it with a reluctant nod, and did not say a word, though she mentally screamed and cussed and beat this man. A moment later, her gun and knife were also returned to her, which she belted onto each of her sides, then bent down to pick her backpack up and slung it over her shoulder.

"Right then," the chief petty officer said a moment later, "Good luck, Mr. Valentine, Miss Norfolk." Then turned and walked back down the docks.

Tara turned to a nearby marine, "We're looking for Warrant Officer Neil Price, I understand he oversees the dock operations... your boss, right?"

This soldier, who had been the one to knock Tara to the ground so she could be detained, gulped nervously, and nodded, "Er... yes, ma'am."

"Where can we find him?" Vincent said a moment later.

The soldier pointed, and Tara whipped past him without another word or a look, with Vincent following close behind.

Once they were well enough away from the docks, Tara looked up at the man, "Thanks for the help."

"You should not be so careless. You should have waited."

"You're the one who told me to..."

"I never said for you to wander off alone."

Tara snorted, "Oh, so now you're concerned?"

Vincent cut his eyes and never broke stride, "Had I not procured that paper, you would be sitting in a cramped cell."

"Okay, you did me a favor, I get it; thanks again." Tara huffed, "You're really strange, you know?"

Vincent gave the woman a look.

"You don't trust me, but you go through the trouble of getting some piece of paper that confirms we're both on the same mission. You hardly know me, yet you save me from being almost raped. 'Be here before we dock' and you get surprised when I'm the first one off? What's your endgame, Vince?"

"Do not call me that," The gunman huffed.

"And don't avoid the subject!" Tara said quickly.

The pair rounded a corner as Vincent replied, "Yuffie is my endgame, the same as yours if you're to be believed."

After that, conversation was next to non-existent. On they marched, the air still filled with the salty smell of the ocean, but also tinged with the scents of spent gunpowder and gasoline. As they walked, Tara recounted fond memories of her childhood, when both her and her sister, Trinity, were brought to this place with their parents for vacation. Many days were spent laughing in the sun, playing in the sand, and visiting the different landmarks around the city itself. Always when they returned home they carried their weight in souvenirs, and it was the one place she and her sister always begged to go back to. People here were happy, here in a tropical paradise away from the worries of their every day lives, and there was rarely ever not a smile on someone's face.

And now things were the exact opposite. Every person they passed had a stone-faced, grim look on their face. Soldiers, marines, armed volunteers patrolled the streets, with armored vehicles rumbling by noisily. Steel and stone barricades blocked the exits to the lower burrows of the town, and, glancing towards the ocean, were the gleaming silver warships of the WRO instead of the proud fishing trolleys of tourists and locals alike. As the pair walked on, many of the shops and buildings had been boarded up and sealed with yellow caution tape, once filled with merchants piddling their wares. The woman felt a pang of sadness within herself then, for this place was no longer the tropical paradise of her childhood. Instead, it was effectively a military compound for the WRO. Once it was colorful and boisterous, and now it was gray, and depressing.

"Tell me something, Valentine." Tara said at length.

The gunman didn't indicate that he acknowledged her.

She spoke anyway, "Once again you don't trust me. So why are you letting me tag along?"

"You're persistent." Was all the man said at first.

"So it's because I'm stubborn? You could just as easily abandon me at some point down the road."

"Yuffie once said that I had a... skill, for seeing the true good in someone." Vincent replied quietly; she almost didn't hear him.

"And what does that mean?" Tara puffed, "The 'true good' in someone, and yet you think life is effectively a lie. What if the true goodness of someone is also a lie?"

Vincent made a noise, "You care for Yuffie in your own way. And while I had every plan to undertake this task alone..."

"Yes?" The woman pressed him.

"You're persistent., but also determined. You may just survive this adventure." Then picked up his pace to walk ahead of her.

And so they went, with people always pushing and shoving past them without an apology or second look. As they ventured further away from the docks, the crowds seem to thicken, which almost didn't make sense to Tara. She was never a fan of huge crowds, and so her claustrophobia began to stir, and her frustration did as well.

"Let's just find Admiral Price's brother so we can get the hell out of Dodge already!"

"We've already found him," Vincent replied, and then pointed. Tara looked.

A few feet further ahead, a small area of the crowd had been cleared, with six marines standing in a circular formation around still two more men. One of these two could have been a simple civilian, messenger, or dignitary. The other however, carried a stern air of authority about him, not the least of which being the black and gray camouflage of the more elite marines. Tara and Vincent instantly started that way, but as expected were accosted by the surrounding soldiers.

"What's your business here, civilian?" One of them asked Tara, eying Vincent suspiciously.

"We're looking for Warrant Officer Neil Price," Tara replied.

"On who's authority?" Another soldier quipped.

The slip of paper from the admiral appeared in Tara's hands a moment later, and she handed it to the soldiers. They looked it over quickly, seemed to turn pale, and saluted, "So sorry, Miss N..."

"Save it," Tara fumed, very much tired of another round of the same games, "Officer Price?"

Now the black and gray camouflaged marine stepped over, the other soldier quickly handing over the slip of paper. After a minute, this man looked up at the woman, "My older brother gave you this, huh?"

Tara nodded, then saluted, "Sergeant Tara Norfolk, thirty-second medic division, sir. Admiral Price had told us to..."

The warrant officer suddenly laughed, "Stubborn old bastard, my brother is! Ah, forgive me." Then saluted himself, "Warrant Officer Neil Price. Do you know President Tuesti personally?"

"I do," Vincent quickly added, "and we have far to go and no time to get there."

"Ah, Mr. Valentine? Your reputation precedes you," Price nodded, "Looks like y'all are headed to Wutai; my brother told me you refuse to travel via air or sea. Do you plan to walk all of the way?"

"There are many places we intend to investigate," Vincent replied, "and stealth is key."

Tara quickly caught on, and added, "Hard to be stealthy in a noisy airship, don't you think?"

Price nodded his agreement, "You're right, but all the same. If you travel by foot, the war will be over—for good or for bad- before you manage to return."

The officer then turned and waved, and from around the corner of a building, an armored truck came. The truck was painted a dark green color, with the stamp of the WRO painted upon the door. The outer body and glass were bullet proof, and grafted to the mirror upon the passenger side was a small machine gun. The truck stopped just in front of the trio, the driver exiting, saluting, and then leaving.

Price nodded to the truck, "Quiet as a mouse, and she'll get ya to where ya need to be! Step this way."

Vincent and Tara followed Price to the rear of the truck, whereupon he opened the trunk and dropped the tailgate. Bundled together were three large red cans of gasoline, as well smaller brown boxes that were also bundled to one another.

"Nothing too fancy here," Price went on, "Emergency gas, some trail rations—dried bread, potted meat, hard cheese, the like. Some spare ammunition—couldn't spare much, I'm afraid. Flare gun, a compass should be in there somewhere. And in the glove box, two pairs of binoculars."

Now Tara felt relieved, and the ache in her legs and feet seemed to lessen. She did, however, turn to Vincent to see his reaction. As always, the enigma remain stone-faced and neutral, and for a moment Tara thought the man to once again turn down the offer.

"Very well," Vincent finally said, and accepted the keys from the other man.

"Oh, and here," Price said, reaching into his coat and producing a folded up map of the region, this he handed to Tara.

"Thank you, Officer Price," Tara smiled, and saluted, "Like I told Admiral Price, you and your brothers might be what saves our lives."

Price returned the salute, "Don't thank us just yet. Wait until you come back with Wutai's armies behind ya!"

The woman nodded again, then climbed into the passenger seat of the truck.

"One last thing," Price added quickly, stepping next to the driver's window, "Be careful out there, there's been some rebel sightings in the area; my youngest brother's forces are already trying to route them out. I marked on that map each of the areas where we saw them."

"Could they really have gotten a foothold on this continent so soon?" Tara asked.

Price shrugged, "Obviously, though how is beyond me. All the same, good luck you two." Then turned and was gone.

Tara then turned to Vincent, "If the Brotherhood numbers here are large enough that they would be spotted, that means they've had to have been smuggling their soldiers for a while now."

Vincent nodded, "Or their leaders are even more clever than first assumed."

"What do you mean?"

Now Vincent turned and looked at the woman, "Sleeper cells."

"Christ," The woman breathed, "you're right."

Vincent nodded yet again, "All the more reason for our haste."

"Right, now we gotta find the youngest Price brother,"

The gunman said nothing, merely turned the engine over, revving the gas a few times. Just ahead of them, a team of soldiers rushed to open a large and high fenced steel gate. Once the gate was opened and, at a nod from another soldier, the truck sped off out of the city, and into the waiting wilderness.

Now the journey truly began.

~ ` ` ` [VII] ` ` ` ~

~ ` ` ` [Edge City; WRO Tower] ` ` ` ~

His mind was hazy, his entire head feeling as though it weighed several pounds. He did not yet know if his eyes had been fully opened, as they too felt weighed down. His mouth was dry, his body ached, and when he finally did open his eyes, it was completely pitch-dark. With a groan, he reached up to gently rub his forehead, the other hand reaching out to feel his surroundings. His hand quickly felt a solid wall, and he slowly sat up into a sitting position. He reached behind him, and felt still another solid object, obviously a wall. When he leaned forward, something brushed against his head... a jacket, maybe?

"What the hell..." He groaned. Then just as quick decided he didn't care; he just wanted to go back to sleep, and fell backwards.

The closet door flew open under his weight, and Reno slammed onto his back with a thump! This in turn only caused his head to hurt worse, and he groaned, rolling over onto his stomach, and glancing around. The apartment room was in disarray, with different articles of clothing thrown here and there, and the painting hanging upon the walls tilted at strange, uneven angles. From this angle he couldn't see above the bed, though it was easy to note it was also disheveled and unkempt. Here, he slowly pushed himself up first onto his knees, and then very slowly to his feet.

"...the hell happened?" Reno groaned again, then glanced at the bed.

Elana lay there, still asleep upon her back, fully naked and very much exposed. One arm was thrown over her eyes, while the other propped her head up beneath a pillow; she snored softly. Suddenly, Reno grinned as wide as he could, looking over the woman's body.

"Oh... yeah, now I remember!" He whispered aloud to himself, very much satisfied with the memory, then went to lean against a nearby bedside table.

The table in question gave way under his weight, it and Reno topping to the floor with a loud clatter and crash, as the glass bowl upon it was thrown against the door and shattered loudly. Reno cussed softly, then heard Elana groan, but the woman still did not stir, save for rolling over onto her left side and going back to sleep. Reno stood up as quick and quiet as he could, sighing in relief that she did not waken. Right then, he decided it was time to leave before she did wake up, and he'd have to deal with that day-after-accidental-sex-awkwardness. And so he tip-toed around the room, collected as many articles of his clothing as he could find, and crept out the door.

It was here that Reno discovered his partner, propped against the adjacent door, arms crossed and a smug look on his face.

"Fun night?" Rude smirked.

"Shit, Rude, shut the hell up, man!" Reno turned and started down the hallway, throwing his jacket on.

Rude was right beside him, "Don't even try to deny it, partner. I know exactly who's room that is."

Reno tried to play it off, "She got too drunk last night, and I walked her back up here! I couldn't make it to my room so I slept in the floor. Big deal!"

Rude chuckled, "You'd better shower before you go on telling that lie."

Here, Reno began to pull back articles of clothing to smell them, "Is it that obvious?"

"Very," Rude confirmed, "I wonder how Elana will feel about it once she wakes up?"

"It just kinda happened, man," Reno sighed, pressing the 'down' button on the elevator, "Heat of the moment type shit, you know?"

Rude nodded, "I'm sure I don't need to remind you of the rules, Reno."

"I know! Damn!" Reno grunted, "One time only deal, and ain't nobody gotta know!"

Now Rude went back to smirking, "I came looking for Elana you know. There was enough noise being made that I'm sure the entire Tower heard you two."

Reno punched the other Turk in the arm and stepped into the elevator, leaving the other in the hallway, "Like I said... nobody needs to know. If I'm lucky, Elana won't even remember."

"Women have a funny way of remembering things they shouldn't," Rude said, "including drunken one-night stands."

"Oh, and you'd know all about that, wouldn't you?" Reno winked at the other male.

"A story for another day," Rude quickly replied, still smirking, "And I've a feeling that if Elana does remember, she may end up following you around like a lost puppy. You know how she is."

Before the redhead could fully grasp those words, the elevator doors shut, leaving him alone in the elevator. The thought that the blonde Turk would indeed follow him around now had not not (nor would it have ever) occurred to him, had Rude not said something about it. 'You know how she is,' what exactly was Rude trying to say? Did Rude know Elana better than anyone else? Had something happened between them in the past no one else knew? He considered maybe calling his partner, meeting back up with him and pressing him on the matter. His hand reached into his jacket pocket...

...and instead pulled a cigarette and lighter, placing the stick between his lips and lighting the end. Instantly the tiny elevator car filled up with smoke, he blowing rings above his head. Whatever happened obviously happened for a reason, as all things do; and so he decided not to dwell on the issue. If push came to shove and their drunken romp effected their business relationship and their ability to successfully do their jobs... well, he would deal with that if, and when it happened. For all he knew, Elana would never talk about it ever again, and do as he planned; to pretend it never even happened. And yet he couldn't deny that (what little he could actually remember) it was fun, probably the most fun he had in years, and that he would definitely not object if he and Elana were to go at it again!

Ding!

The doors parted, and Lysa stood there, a clipboard under her right arm and typing a text message into her phone; today her dark red hair was put down to hang over her shoulders and curled at the end, she also wore thin framed glasses.

Reno stepped out after taking another drag from his cigarette, "Mornin', chick!"

Lysa smiled and nodded, stepping past him into the elevator, "Heard you had fun last night."

Reno groaned, whirling around to glare at the other redhead, "Man, Rude's got a mouth as big as his dome head, don't he? Who else did he tell?"

The woman smirked, putting her phone away, "Not as big as yours. Rude didn't tell me, I asked him to look for Elana last night, and when I never heard from him, went looking for her myself. Asked around, plenty of people saw you both enter her apartment, and when I heard the noises... well. Two and two makes four, right?"

Here, Reno slapped a palm against his forehead, taking an even longer huff from the stick in his mouth, "Look, it was a one time thing, happened on accident. And I'd appreciate it if you kept your mouth shut about it!"

Still Lysa smirked, "My pretty little lips are sealed. Just one question though and I'll shut up about it forever."

"What?"

Now, her eyes sparkled with mischief, "Elana's quite the looker, does she fuck as good as she looks?"

Now Reno fumed, his own eyes narrowing, nostrils flaring once. He stomped menacingly into the elevator car, the female backing away a single step. "Careful, chick. Don't forget I'm still higher up on the food chain, and pay grade, than you are."

But Lysa didn't back down, "And I'm not the one who, in a single night, broke about six of the conduct codes the Turks are expected to follow rigorously."

"Yeah well, just remember one thing, chick. Snitches get stitches and wind up in ditches." Then turned and furiously pressed ever button on the elevator panel, so that the entire board was lit up. He then stepped out mere moments before the doors closed, and resigned Lysa to her long elevator ride.

An hour later, Reno went back to the lounge and bar area he and Elana had been, sliding into an empty stool and rubbing his temples. It was just after nine, and so the area was sparsely occupied, with only one other person sitting on the far end of the bar with a plate of food and glass of juice, and a handful of people scattered around the tables. Reno stared hard at the grain wood of the bar top, mind flushed with frustration at his encounter with Lysa. Maybe he had been to brash, while she was only picking fun at him; he was sure Lysa would never have said anything. Just then, the bartender walked over, and as Reno quickly realized, was the same one who had served he and Elana that night before. He wore a smug smile.

"Fun night, buddy?"

Reno slapped a palm hard on the wood, making a loud sound, "Son of a bitch I wish people would shut the fuck up about it already! Can't a guy get his rocks off without it turning into a national crisis?"

The barkeep flinched, just slightly, "Sorry, sir, was just making small talk. Get you anything?"

Reno had intended to order food, but after his outburst he did not doubt this man would spit in it. He shook his head, "No, I'm sorry, man. One of those mornings. Just a bottled water." And placed a handful of gil on the counter.

Not so long after, he felt his day get increasingly worse when he spotted Elana round the corner and head his way. She wore the usual black bottoms the Turks wore, with a long-sleeve button down shirt; she was missing her black overcoat. She sat herself one chair down from him, and placed a large, twenty-four ounce bottle of water in front of her, half of which was already drained.

She glanced his way and nodded with a small smile, "Morning, Reno."

He nodded at her, forcing his trademark grin, "Mornin', chick."

"Elana," She reminded him.

"Right, duh. How do you feel?"

She shrugged, "Took a couple 'feel-good' pills Rude gave me, staying hydrated. I'll live."

"Great!" He replied, taking a swig of his own water."

"Good morning," The bartender told Elana when he came over, handing over her black coat that she left that night, "figured you might need this. Get you anything?"

Elana accepted the coat with a smile and a thank you, quickly throwing it on and buttoning it up, then ruffling it out, "Tuna on white, no crust."

"Straight up white girl!" Reno managed to chuckle.

She grinned at him, then suddenly moved into the seat directly next to him and lowered her voice, "Reno, about last night..."

Now he flinched, daring to hope this wouldn't come up in conversation, "Yeah, what about it? I've heard nothing but shit the entire morning."

She blushed now, looking stricken, "I know it shouldn't have happened, but..."

"But it did happen," He cut her off, "and can't nobody change that. Why are you even bringing it up?"

Now she seemed to turn angry, "It didn't mean anything to you?"

He himself started to grow angry, "It was a drunken one-night stand, Elana; what is it supposed to mean? Are you asking me if it was fun? Hell yeah it was!"

"One-night stand, huh? So it's not likely to happen again?"

He opened his mouth to speak, but found that the words caught in his throat. He had to be careful here, he knew, as the wrong words might well create a rift between the two Turks. She would resent him, and when they would be forced in the same room together, things would become so tense and awkward that any form of work would be difficult. He found in that moment that he did care for Elana, though maybe not in the way that she had cared for Tseng. After all, himself, her, Rude and Tseng had worked together for years, so there was a form of comradery there. At the same time, he knew well enough of the rules, and while he was never one to play by them, this situation was different, more serious. What would the Director have said, were he conscious and had found out? Reno entertained the thought that he would likely never see light of day again, and for some reason that made him smirk.

Elana noticed this, and tilted her head, "Reno?"

He let himself drift back to the real world, and locked eyes with the woman, "Listen chi... er, Elana, this is some complicated shit, you know? Obviously it goes against the rules that are actually enforced, and people in this Tower have big mouths; I'll be surprised if even more people haven't caught wind of our 'party' last night."

She slowly looked down at the tops of her hands, "What does it do for our business relationship, though?" Then looked back at him, hopeful.

He took a swig of water, "I'm not let it gonna do a damn thing for our business relationship if you don't! Like I said, it happened, it's done, over, time to move on. Why make things awkward?"

"You never did answer me question, though," She reminded him.

"I mean..." For a moment he floundered with the words, "Maybe we should lay off the alcohol together for a while. But that aside? Who knows!"

Now she smiled, though it was more mischievous than anything, "You suggesting a friends with benefits type deal, then?" She whispered.

He felt his arousal rise, then winked at her, "Hey, I won't tell if you won't."

Here, she raised her water bottle to him, "Here's to discretion!"

"Cheers!"

Thunk!

Just as quick he stood up and moved away from her, "Maybe we should keep these personal meetings to the bare minimum too, chick."

"Elana," She scolded, "and why?"

"Like I said, people have big mouths in here, and all of 'em are nosy as hell. Wouldn't take much for some bored twit to start a rumor just because we're always together."

She thought about that for a moment, then nodded and also stood up, "I see your point, and I agree." She then checked her watch, "Until then... back to the old grind," Then held out a hand."

He reached out, grasped it softly, and shook twice, "I'll see ya later, Elana!"

She let her touch linger for a moment, even brushed the top of his hand with her thumb, "Oh, yes you will." She smirked, then turned and walked away without looking back.

Reno watched her go, paying particular attention to her backside, then groaned, turned, and walked in the other direction. What had he just gotten himself into?

~ ` ` ` [VII] ` ` ` ~

~ ` ` ` [Junction Town] ` ` ` ~

Yuffie set about pacing all four walls of her prison cell, walking continuously in a full square; after a few laps she would reverse her direction and continue to pace. She had done this routine at least three times every day since her move to... wherever she was now. She had quickly found that the constant sitting stiffened her legs and made them ache, and so the girl formulated this would-be exercise. Outside the slit of a window, the sky was dark, and yet so many spotlights were alight, illuminating the entire compound outside. Faint were the sounds of rumbling trucks and even the occasional bit of dialogue between the militants, if one listened close enough. Yuffie did not; she didn't care what any of them were saying or had to say. No, instead she remained focused on one word, and one word only.

Hope.

She could still see the deceased flower girl's face clearly, everywhere she looked, even swore once or twice that she caught a whiff of her perfume. That sweet smell of woody chestnut overlayed with sweet flowers, just like the ones she used to sell. Yuffie of course knew it wasn't real, and it was her mind playing tricks on her, and yet she still hoped that she would encounter the woman again in some way. Alas, it never happened, and so instead Yuffie had to hold on to the hope that soon she would be rescued. Softly she touched the pink ribbon still wrapped around her neck as she paced, smiling at the memory. At first, the only word that mattered was survival, and survived she had, no thanks in part to the Brotherhood lieutenant, Tormuj. That one she remained uncertain about, but he was her only friend and ally while she was under lock and key it seemed. She had finally opted to ignore whatever shadow game it was that the man was playing, and instead chose to be grateful for how he helped her. Without him, she would likely have been killed a long time ago, and worse things. And yet every time she looked down at her stomach, saw and felt the long ropey scar there, she became angered all over again. The scar was a prize of their first encounter after her imprisonment, in which he helped another Brotherhood rebel torture her for information. She knew she would carry the mark for the rest of her life, and whatever the reasons for him marking her so (he claimed to having been forced to do so, which she still did not believe) she would never forgive him for it.

Yet at the same time, perhaps she had found it in her heart to not hate him so much, after Aerith had informed her that her friend, the combat medic Tara was still alive. Even then when she closed her eyes and thought of the memory, it almost seemed real. Being back on that battlefield outside of Fort Condor, bullets shooting past her like so many angry bees. And the final thing that she ever saw before she passed out was Tormuj standing over Tara's fallen body, one of his daggers piercing her chest. When she had finally awoken, strapped to a bed and already a prisoner, she just knew her friend was dead, killed by the foreigner with the thick black hair. What was it he had told her at one point? 'You only know what you think you saw' or something to that effect. It turned out he was right, it seemed. But that only lead to more questions: why didn't he kill Tara? And if she truly were still alive, how did she get away from the battle? With so severe a wound, how was it possible Tara didn't die?

Now her head hurt worse, and she sighed, walking over to the bed and flopping down upon her stomach. Nearby on a small table was a tray of food, which she had done little more than pick at. As she had done so many times before, Yuffie plucked a hunk of bread from the tray and then rolled over onto her back, grabbing a previously discarded book she had been reading. Taking a bite of the bread, she opened the book to a bent back page from where she had left off before. Ancient Worlds Regarded: A History of the Cetra it was called, and she happened upon it, ironically, after Aerith had visited her in her dreams, and it turned out to be a fascinating read. It almost amused her that, all those years ago before Meteorfall, she never had any idea exactly who Aerith was. Just a cute face who used to sell flowers, and had become one of her closest female friends. And as it had turned out, she was so much more than that.

An hour later, Yuffie heard footsteps just outside her door, and so she again marked the page in her book and tossed it aside, quickly sitting up. She retrieved the tray of food and moved to the cell door, placing it on the floor next to the closed hatch. She had been instructed that, at a set time a guard would come and retrieve the plates delivered to her, and that if they were not there when the guard came to fetch them, she would not receive the next meal. And so she dropped the tray on the floor with a clatter, and then turned to go back to her book, when the security locks on her door scraped noisily as they were thrown aside, the door being pulled open a second later. There stood a man in a black duster jacket, black pants, and a walking cane in his hand. His hands and face were pale, and skeletal thin.

The man looked up to regard her, thin lips smiling just barely, "Ah, you must be Miss Kisaragi, the Wutain prisoner of war, yes?"

Yuffie went on alert, putting the bed between her and the newcomer, "Who the hell are you?"

The stranger took two short steps into the cell, cane clang'ing on the steel floor as he walked, "Baron Devlynn is what they call me."

"What do you want?" She demanded, trying to keep her voice even.

Yet she couldn't deny that this man well and truly scared her. His face and skin were so thin that she almost swore she could see clear through to his insides. But the worst of it were his eyes; behind rounded spectacles they were the palest shade of blue, and constantly looked her up and down, with a hungry twinkle in them.

Devlynn rested both palms on his cane and again clang'ed it on the floor, "Why, to introduce myself of course, as any gentleman would do!"

Now Yuffie's skin began to crawl, "You've introduced yourself, now go the hell away!"

The Baron clicked his tongue, "Cheeky little thing, aren't you? I love it. Now, boss says I'm not to touch you, but..." And he took a menacing step forward.

Instantly, the girl backed herself into the closest corner, when a gleaming silver object appeared in the foe's hand. With a flick of a switch and a click sound, a three inch silver blade snapped out. Her adrenaline surged, she slightly bending her knees and balling her fists tightly. If he intended to hurt her, then she would do whatever it took to defend herself.

Hope. Survival.

"Just a small sample is all, my dear," Devlynn's voice was cool, calm, but menacing.

"Sir Baron!"

Another figure appeared in the doorway then, and the Baron stopped a mere two steps away from Yuffie and turned to the door. Yuffie considered using this opportunity to pounce on the enemy since his back was turned, but a glance to the door changed her mind. There, in his padded leathers and animal furs stood Tormuj, his black hair tied in a ponytail that hung over the front of his right shoulder. Behind him was one of his personal men, same bronze skin, and holding a rifle in his hands.

"Ah, the prodigal savage!" Devlynn chuckled, returning the knife to his coat pocket, "What do you want now?"

Tormuj entered the cell, palms resting on his hips, "Must this one remind you of His Grace's orders? The girl is not to be touched!"

Devlynn snorted, "I don't take orders from you, savage."

Tormuj smiled a wicked smile, "But you take orders from His Grace!"

"You're right, of course. I had never intended to hurt her... just making an introduction."

Yuffie fumed, "Hey, I'm standing right here you know!"

"Be quiet, little girl!" Tormuj hissed at her, glaring.

Yuffie returned the glare, never backing down, "Give me a weapon and I'll show you how 'little' I am!"

Devlynn chuckled, "My, what an interesting situation this is! You know, when two people fight this much, it can only mean one thing. Shall I procure a honeymoon suite for you two?"

"Sir Baron..." Tormuj calmed himself, looking to the man, "Do you not have a materia to study?"

Just then, another militant with the same pale skin as Devlynn appeared in the doorway, "Grand Inquisitor! The scientists and machinists are waiting for you in the warehouse, sir!"

"Yes, yes, I'll be right there. Away with you, rodent," And waved the soldier away. He then looked to Yuffie, and smiled, "Perhaps we'll have a chance to chat later, my dear."

'Maybe I'll snap your neck,' Yuffie thought darkly.

The Baron nodded to Tormuj as he passed him, "Never forget your loyalties, savage. I can only imagine what boss would do, were he to find out you were infatuated with the enemy." He paused in the doorway, gave Yuffie one last look, smirked, and disappeared from sight.

Tormuj checked the hallway to ensure none remained but his own man, then nodded to him, "Just a moment." Then shut the cell door, which was then locked by the soldier outside.

Yuffie relaxed, but just slightly, "Who the hell is that guy? Another lieutenant?"

Tormuj leaned against the cell door, arms crossed, and predictably dropped his false accent, "Grand Inquisitor, torture expert and... mad scientist, I suppose. But he is the leader's right hand man, if that tells you anything."

She touched the pink ribbon on her neck for courage; she would never forget those piercing blue eyes, and the way that man spoke, "You guys are known for hiring freaks of nature. That guy, a big ugly mutant, some foreigner who's playing both sides of the war? What gives?"

The man smirked, throwing a lock of hair from his eyes, "In due time things will make sense. In the meantime, one day you shall have to begin repaying me for all the times I've saved your life. How many times does this make now, my lady?"

She felt her cheeks flush in anger, which only made her captor laugh, "I could have taken him! He's even skinner than me!"

"A hard thing to accomplish," Tormuj chuckled, which made her flush more, "do not underestimate the Baron, Yuffie. Have you ever heard the saying, you shouldn't judge a book by it's cover?"

She turned away from him and didn't respond.

"I trust you've been well enough while I was gone. Has Mailiki done as I ordered?"

She shrugged, still not looking at him, "Three hots and a cot, can't complain."

She didn't see it, but he nodded, banging twice on the steel door. Outside, the soldier quickly threw back the security bars and pulled the door open. Only here did Yuffie turn back around and lock eyes with his green eyes; he in turn smiled warmly at her, which threw her off.

"Before you left," She suddenly said, not entirely sure why she was even speaking, "you said things were about to change. What did you mean? What's changed?"

The warm smile changed to a mischievous, childish grin, "A story for another day, my lady. In the meantime, enjoy your stay in paradise." Then stepped out of the cell, and slammed the door shut behind him.

She dashed across the space and banged once on the door, "Wait!"

The visor slid back, and she saw his green eyes, "Yes?"

"Can... can I at least get some different books to read? I've already read everything in here a thousand times!"

He laughed, and she wondered if it was mocking; her mind had since begun to race with a million different things. Possibilities, assumptions, hopes, what the future held for her.

"This one shall see what he can do, girl," That familiar fake accent again. Then the visor slid shut with a clink, and she heard retreating footfalls.

Then she was alone again. She slid into her bed a minute later, pulling the covers over her head. For the third time she touched the ribbon on her throat, sending a silent prayer to whatever gods might be listening that this solitude would not last much longer.

Hope.

A note from the author: I LIIIIIIIVE!