In between meetings the ringtone Reeve had assigned for Elmyra Gainsborough rang from his personal phone. He pulled it out and set the phone on its dock, pleased with himself that Elmyra had accepted the one he'd offered her and had no trouble using it. (Her own had been confiscated. This replacement phone was still being monitored for any possible contacts to AVALANCHE…but it was certainly better than nothing.) She more than likely had no idea how few people he ever gave his personal number to.

"Hello, Elmyra," Reeve greeted as he continued to shuffle through spreadsheets on his desktop.

"I'm glad I caught you," she answered. "I wanted you to know the contractors got done with the planters on the top floor, finally. The outside of the house is incredible."

It was somewhat refreshing to be kept abreast of the most mundane matters, considering the mystifying deluge of insanity he spied on and the dancing horror show of the Shinra boardroom. "Perfect, I was wondering how it was going. My assistant sent along information about the school, did you get it?"

A pause followed and she cleared her throat. "Yes, I got it. I suppose I just keep hoping this won't be much longer and I won't have to make that kind of decision on Mr. Wallace's behalf."

"Marlene's almost five," Reeve reminded her. "She can't keep waiting for things to go back to normal." Nothing was ever going to be normal again. Reeve could sympathize with that. "It's an excellent school. It was thanks to them I was designing for Shinra by seventeen."

"Speaking of almost five…" Elmyra began gently.

A rare smile tugged at the side of Reeve's face. "I assume you have a head count?"

"Marlene's already made so many friends," she laughed. "It looks like there will be six—seven including me. Hopefully nine if you and Barret…?"

Reeve blinked in surprise. While asking about Marlene's father was hardly unexpected… "I…I hope you understand it's still not safe for her father to be there. He's also…in the middle of something important."

Hopefully, all of them would find Aerith soon and Reeve would never have to let Elmyra know her daughter had ever been missing.

Elmyra sighed. "I guessed. Then you…?"

Rubbing the back of his neck, Reeve leaned back in his chair. "I…I wouldn't think I'd be invited."

Elmyra laughed lightly. "Nonsense. Marlene won't stop asking about you."

Only three weeks before Reeve had left the girl a sobbing mess and now she was inviting him to her birthday party? "Well, I…"

"Do you think she doesn't appreciate the updates on what her father is up to? She insists. She's told half the neighborhood children about the Shinra man who makes puppets."

"Oh." Reeve chuckled self-consciously. "My reputation is ruined."

"It's impossible to fool children for long. If Barret can't be here, please be sure you are."

"I'll do what I can," he offered. "I'm a very busy man."

Elmyra scoffed. "Make time. I'm not so dull I can't notice when someone needs to get away from work."

Tiredly, Reeve smiled. "Then I suppose I'll have to bring the cake in person."

Reeve hadn't been prepared for the decibels six four and five-year olds could reach. As he had walked in with the cake box, their collective shrieking had nearly startled him into dropping it. Thankfully, the very expensive cake covered in icing flowers and pearly-white cats of sculpted candy had made it into the parlor without tragedy striking.

As Elmyra revealed the cake to the party-goers, Reeve greeted the other lady he was happy to see. He kissed his mother's cheek and she pulled him in a tight hug. "The planters around the house are the loveliest thing Aye've ever seen, Reeve," she said, her thin face pulled into a bright smile.

"Glad you appreciate it."

"Aye've been tryin' for a garden at home," she said, beaming as she sat on the sofa. "It'll make you and Elmyra jealous, just wait."

Reeve glanced away for a moment, clearing his throat softly. "Mom, you're not…Midgar…isn't really the place for flowers."

Frowning, she folded her bony arms across her chest. "Elmyra says her daughter had no trouble at all. Aye say with enough care and enough work ya can get flowers anywhere."

There was his mother's stubborn streak again. "It's…It's hard to describe, Mom."

"Fine, tell yer old country mouse of a mother how to do somethin' as simple as plantin' flowers," she huffed. "Aye did it plenty of times before ye were born and while we lived here, Aye'll remind you. Aye'll just get my handsome, young tenant to help."

At this, Reeve shook his head and chuckled. "I'm surprised he isn't here. Is he not feeling well?"

With a scoff and a snicker, she waved the question aside. "Oh, he's fine. Try convincin' an eight-year-old boy to come to a five-year-old girl's party. Denzel is watchin' the house for me."

"Oh?" Reeve finally eased himself beside his mother on the sofa. "Looks like I'm never going to meet this mysterious Denzel."

"Ya will, Aye'm sure of it," she said. "In fact, if ya gave a wee bit of time to yer mother ya could see him anytime."

Tiredly, Reeve half-smiled at her. "Mom…"

"Aye know, Aye know," she sighed out melodramatically, moving her thin, grey ponytail over her shoulder. "No time. Time enough for a party of a friend's girl and not your mother. Or to find your own lass. Or lad. Wouldn't ye like to be hosting your own little ones' parties by now?"

"Momma!" Reeve laughed in surprise. A twinge of the accent he'd worked so hard to get rid of started to reappear around her. "Tonight? Yer doing this tonight?"

"Aye rib ya, but…" Mother's smile took on a sad turn as her face softened. "But it's hard to see ya arrive alone, is all. And in only a few minutes ye're smilin' more than I've seen ya do in ages."

His expression fell at this, and he awkwardly sighed and tapped his heel. "I'm glad you're thinking about me, but it's fine. Most of my energy is just in work, that's all."

"It'd be nice to see ya expend a bit of that for what's around ye, dear."

Reeve's attention snapped to the group of children running up to the sofa. "Mr. Toostey, Ms. Toostey!" Marlene blurted.

The butchering of their shared surname caused the two of them to laugh and give each other pained grins. "Please, ya poor thing," his mother said through giggles. "Please just call me Ms. Ruby."

"Uh, you know, Marlene," Reeve offered gently. "Reeve is fine."

"Reeve, Reeve," Marlene said breathily, as though the sprint from the table to the sofa had exhausted her as much as her eagerness. "Show them how you make Cait dance!"

Self-consciously, Reeve held up his hands to insist to the contrary, but his voice was immediately drowned out by the chorus of pleas from the kids.

His mother jostled Reeve's shoulder, her eyes sparkling. "Ye've kept up the knack, have ya? Aye haven't seen it in so long! Have a go."

After a deep exhale, Reeve stood to his feet. "All right, you all win. Where is he?"

Giggling happily, Marlene darted to her chair at the table and ran back with the plush Cait Sith in her arms. She held up the doll, its head and limbs flopping with each movement. Reeve knelt in the middle of the group and helped Marlene adjust her hold on Cait so he was facing forward. Closing his eyes, Reeve focused, and let out a deep breath, a familiar sensation slithering out of him along with the air. His parents had always called it a "knack," a kind of old folk magic that was almost completely extinct in the age of mako. It was a bit like giving a piece of himself to something, a "breath of life" that caused the puppet to shudder and wiggle in Marlene's hands.

Gasps of wonder rose from the onlookers, and Marlene eagerly let go of Cait Sith. The doll hopped to attention on its own, taking a deep bow with a flourish. Reeve was aware of the expressions of the audience (despite his eyes still being closed) because of the temporary bond he and it now shared.

The doll spun on its heels, and Reeve opened his eyes to see the group of children watching with dumbstruck awe. On behalf of this plush Cait, he spoke to the crowd, allowing his voice to fully affect his old accent: "'Greetin's and salutations to all! Ah'm Cait Sith."' With each word the doll waved its arms theatrically and tapped its thick-shoed feet. This was met with excited applause and squealing laughter. "'This party is just grand! Aye could tell yer fortunes, but Aye can already tell all o'ya have bright futures.'"

His mother's eyes looked misty as she clapped and tittered happily, and Reeve added a warm smile in her direction.

This performance was nothing remotely as intricate as the relationship Reeve had with the Cait Sith currently across the world. That Cait Sith had full robotics to allow for actual autonomy, and state-of-the-art equipment that enabled Cait both to speak of his own accord and to translate Reeve's thoughts or speech into his own voice. From this cozy living room in Kalm Reeve could see with his own eyes, from the point of view of the dancing doll, and from another set of eyes among a group of renegades on a distant shore—all at once. It was slightly disorienting, but focusing on one at a time wasn't too difficult.

In fact, sometimes it was easier to see through Cait Sith than not.

The party had wrapped up nearly an hour before, the last of the guests had been escorted home by their parents. Reeve had retreated to the top floor to set up something, and now casually walked down the steps back to the parlor. While clearly exhausted, Marlene was helping his mother and Elmyra gather the piles of discarded wrapping paper and ribbons.

"Aye was worried ya'd sneaked off without so much as a goodbye," his mother chided, carrying the dirty plates toward the stairs.

"Are you leaving soon?" he asked.

Tiredly, she yawned and shook her head. "Aye shouldn't leave Denzel by himself, but it's far too late. Aye let him know Aye'll be back in the morning."

"I have to leave tonight. But…not quite yet," Reeve said gently. "There's still something I need to do for Marlene."

Dubious, his mother lowered an eyebrow, then continued past him up the stairs. "Hm. You know, Aye hear her father is single."

Even the suggestion of associating Marlene's father with romance made his lip curl in disgust. "Mom!"

"Aye rib ya, Aye rib ya," she said with an airy laugh.

No, Mother didn't "rib" about Reeve's nonexistent love life. He visualized Barret's reaction if anyone ever suggested something like that to his face. There would likely only be a fine, red mist left of Reeve. His entire body shuddered as he pictured the sheer number of bullets…Pushing aside unpleasant thoughts, Reeve moved to Elmyra and Marlene.

Now seated at the parlor's table, Marlene paused playing with her new puzzle. Her large, brown eyes looked up at him inquisitively.

"Did you have a good time?" he asked gently.

"Yeah!" she cheered, raising her arms enthusiastically.

Elmyra chimed in, "Did you thank Mr. Reeve for all the new clothes?"

"Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you!"

He leaned slightly closer and held up a finger to quiet her. "There's one more thing I want to give you."

Bouncing in her seat, she proceeded to knock several pieces of her puzzle on the floor. "Yay!"

After plucking up the scattered cardboard, Reeve gestured to the staircase. "You have to come with me, though, this way." He urged her out of the chair, and Marlene followed in his shadow to the top floor. The house had always had a bizarre arrangement, the kitchen being on the fourth floor, with the bedrooms between it and the parlor on the ground floor. Reeve had set up a large tablet on a stand on the kitchen table, and Marlene excitedly plopped in the chair in front of it. Giggling, her hands immediately reached for the screen.

Visions of destructive toddler hands grabbing his equipment popping into his head, Reeve quickly thrust an arm in front of it. "Wait, wait, wait!" he blurted. "It's not the tablet. Just wait."

Marlene flopped back, her lips skewing in a pout.

Recollecting himself, Reeve took out a small transceiver and set it next to the screen. Reading his mental commands, the screen turned on, and a distant scene appeared on it. "No one can see or hear you," Reeve explained gently. "But you can tell me to say something if you want, okay?"

Marlene studied the screen curiously, and as she noted familiar faces her expression lit up in delight.

Half the world away, Cait Sith sat on a beach, unaffected by the chill in the evening air.

A faded-red and blue sea plane floated next to the shore, lights in its large cabin showing several figures moving around. Nearby a campfire blazed, and weary, battle-worn travelers lounged around it, passing around stories and bottles of beer.

As Reeve's awareness took control, Cait Sith urged its massive, pastel, plush mount to join those by the fire. With sweeping, padded steps the mooglesaurus approached, and the bittersweet conversation in progress could be heard over the sound of the ocean breeze and lapping waves.

"—I never admitted it," a young, fimly-toned woman with long, dark-brown hair continued. She took a sip from her bottle and leaned back to stare up at the sky. "But I remade that cake three times."

A mountain of a man laughed in a deep, booming voice. His white-toothed smile shone in contrast to his rich, mahogany skin that glowed in the firelight. "You're shittin' me."

"I'm not," she laughed back, her brassy, reddish eyes thinning with her smile. "I should not have volunteered, I should have just sucked it up and bought one. I had no idea how hard it is to make cake."

"Not as easy as potato skins?" another man threw in. His square, stubbled face was clearly visible only when the perpetual stream of cigarette smoke trailing from his wide grin parted.

"Don't you even talk about her potato skins," the largest man warned, pointing his left finger at his companion. "You ain't tried 'em yet."

The smoker in a flight jacket and goggles raised his bottle eagerly. "Do I look like I don't want any? I want to try 'em, I'm waitin' to try 'em!"

"Anyway," the woman said. "The first one, I don't even know. I think I stirred too much. It was bread. Dense bread, too. The second one? The second one, I managed to completely forget the sugar."

Warmly, the ursine man chuckled, rubbing his eye with the same hand he held his beer with. The firelight glinted off the metal that composed his other arm. "You know, I never would'a been able to tell. Marlene loved that cake, Tifa."

Marlene squealed, clapping at the scene. "Daddy! It's Daddy, it's Daddy! And Tifa—Hi, Tifa!" she shouted at the screen.

Reeve winced at her volume, and put a finger to his lips. "They can't hear you, remember? Let's just listen."

Tifa shrugged sheepishly. "Johnny's mom may have done most of the work for that one."

Cid polished off his beer, then lazily tossed the bottle in a bucket sitting nearby. "Baking is too much chemistry for me. When I was a kid all I wanted was barbeque, anyway."

"One weird-ass kid, one weird-ass, grown man," Barret chuckled.

"If you've never had ribs and grilled fruit you don't get to insult me. Just as good as cake and better, and I will die on that hill."

Vincent had been silent through the exchange, seated at the edge of the campfire's light. His crimson eyes shone eerily in the dark as they drifted up and his steadfast gaze locked directly on Cait Sith.

Marlene audibly gasped. "W-Who is that?"

"Those two men are friends of your father's," Reeve assured her. "That's Vincent. The blonde man is Cid."

"He can see me?"

"No, we're seeing what one of my puppets is seeing. Vincent can't see you."

"…Vincent is scary."

"He's just different. He's very kind, I promise."

Vincent titled his head slightly, peering from beneath his unkempt, pitch hair, and the canvas bandanna he always wore. "I assume you think you have something to add, Cait?"

The group around the fire turned and faced Cait Sith, their expressions immediately darkening. Tifa took a long, exaggerated swig from her bottle as Cid leaned over to grab a new beer from a cooler.

Barret only stared daggers at the intruder, his eyes burning under his hard brow. "Now is the worst time, ya damn cat."

"Be nice, Daddy. Be nice."

"He…He has good reason to be upset," Reeve said with a subtle shrug. "He really wishes he could be here, but he can't." Straightening, he then gestured largely with his hand and said, "I can't tell you much, but I can assure you Marlene had a great day." The exact time Reeve spoke, Cait Sith's heavily-accented, cheerful voice parroted his words and movements over the feed.

The sound of both of them speaking simultaneously in such different voices caused Marlene to straighten and blink in surprise. "Hm? Is that…Is that Cait Sith?"

"Holy shit," Cid laughed caustically. "Wow. The Shinra stooge can't read a room, what a goddamn surprise."

Tifa scowled in Cait's direction. "Oh, do they throw children's parties in the Shinra building? Is that a thing?"

Holding up his large, gloved hands, Cait Sith shook his head. "No, no, no. Aye haven't said until now, but Marlene's nowhere near the Shinra building. She's with Aerith's momma still. They're fine, better than fine!"

Gears were turning behind Barret's gaze. By degrees, his amber eyes thinned.

Vincent folded his arms over his raised knees. "So, she is safe. The situation is far from perfect, but it is good to hear."

"Don't encourage it," Cid said sourly. He let out a long stream of smoke and stabbed the butt of his cigarette in the sand before flicking it into the trash bucket. "It'll keep talking if you do."

Gradually, Barret heaved himself to his feet and moved around the fire to Cait Sith. "You're with her, aren't you?"

Cait Sith didn't reply directly. "If ya could, what would ya say to her… right now?"

Barret stopped in front of Cait Sith, and the others around the fire watched him intently—awaiting a possible fight.

His face softening, Barret reached into the inside pocket of his tattered vest. "I'd tell her…I'd tell her everything's okay."

Her eyes shining, Marlene leaned forward on the tabletop and gently poked her finger at the image of her father. "It's okay, Daddy…It's okay."

"I'd tell her I miss her every single day," Barret whispered, a noticeable redness in his eyes. "It don't matter where I go, I wonder what she'd think of every place I see. I hope…I hope she was happy today. And I have something special for her." He opened his large hand to show off a necklace. It was humble but lovely. Stained-metal vines coiled around a polished, turquoise stone flanked by smaller ones like obsidian. "You remember this?" he asked Cait Sith.

"It was her momma's, yeah?"

"Yeah. Yeah, it was." Looking back into Cait Sith's face, Barret swallowed hard. "You better tell her all that. And that her daddy loves her so much."

A soft smile on her face, Marlene nodded. "I love you too."

"She loves you too," Cait repeated.

Idly, Marlene brushed her finger over her father's face on the screen. "I miss you…"

"And she misses you too."

His lips tightening, Barret nodded. "Yeah. That's what I'd tell her."

"She knows."

"Just so you know, ya damn cat, if you made her cry on her birthday I will find you and—"

Reeve quickly ended the transmission. The screen facing Marlene went black, though Reeve was still privy to Barret's very colorful, distressingly-specific descriptions of his plans. "Well, I think that's enough for now," he sighed out, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

"Tell him to be nice!" Marlene demanded as she sat up straight. "Tell him I say he has to be nice to Cait Sith."

Reeve grimaced, his eyes growing larger briefly. "She says you have to be nice to me."

Marlene beamed with a wide smile, proud of her newfound expertise in diplomacy.

Not that Reeve would ever have been stupid enough to say that to Barret, but the sentiment was appreciated. "Happy Birthday, Marlene."

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