The purple haze had become a foreboding blood-red and burned as a new sun, though the shadow of Meteor simultaneously made day into night over Midgar. A perpetual wind ripped across the plates, sending debris tumbling through the streets and long-forgotten litter fluttering through the air like filthy snowflakes. Before his death, Bugenhagen had predicted there were still three days until Meteorfall, but Reeve couldn't see how the condition of the skies and weather could indicate anything other than the end—far too soon. Reeve hadn't spent his time away from Cait Sith for anything other than evacuation efforts, and it was just not enough time.

Temporary Shinra headquarters resided in an old Shinra office building in the Sector 4 undercity. Power continuously would shut off on its own, forcing all work to cease until the breakers were fixed, pests crawled at the edges of the walls, and there was a distinct odor that lingered over the couch that Reeve used as his bed, but he couldn't ask for better than whatever was available in an emergency.

In the midst of the crowded open-office space, over the din of keyboards and phone calls, Reeve wandered the room for the best signal. He strained to hear Shera, the engineer who had helped band together all the disenfranchised scientists of Rocket Town in a unified effort to keep world-wide communications open. This current conversation doubled as information gathering, her equipment analyzing their signal.

Now standing on top of a desk, Reeve smiled as her voice finally came through perfectly. "There," Reeve said. "I think that's got it." Sadly, the desk wasn't unoccupied, and the employee working at his desktop awkwardly stared up at Reeve. Reeve could only shrug at him in reply.

"I can hear you much better," Shera affirmed. "It's just like I thought, though…The towers in your area are still reading just fine. That only means it's…it's interference f-f-from…"

"From Meteor," Reeve supplied for her. Not many people wanted to address the approaching death sentence by name. It was a fair reaction, he couldn't judge.

"Yeah," Shera said softly. "Yeah, that. Anyway, we're doing our best to strengthen any signals in and around Midgar, but it honestly looks like it's all on your end, sir. M—It's just wrecking too much havoc on signals."

Nodding, Reeve rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I had guessed…but do you think there may be ways to boost signal from our end?"

"If the right equipment can be scavenged up."

"I have teams who need help, Shera. They're far enough outside Midgar that reaching them shouldn't be a problem. Instruct them on what they need to do. Those of us inside need communication."

"Of course, sir. Before you patch me through, I thought you should know…Director Palmer is here."

Shaking his head gently, Reeve couldn't help but smile. "Made it all the way to Rocket Town, did he?"

"He's been having equipment from outside Midgar brought into town," Shera said. "And staying out of the way…so, he's trying as best he can, I guess?"

"Keep an eye on him," Reeve said with a grin. "I'm sure he doesn't know you're telling on him?"

"Of course not, he'd run off."

"Definitely."

"Oh, and…Cid left early this morning."

Reeve nodded. "We're all supposed to meet back at the Highwind."

"T-T…Tell him I miss him already."

Sadly, Reeve's smile softened. They were all changing, even the abrasive, combative Captain Highwind. Reeve remembered that fateful day when the suggestion of going back to Rocket Town or to Shera gave Cid "chills." Lie or no, it had been shocking to hear the suggestion of Cid being so dismissive of someone who clearly had his best interests at heart. Reeve could only hope there was still time for that change to matter. "He knows."

"Tell him anyway. And make him tell you what he told me," Shera added with a short giggle.

"Of course," Reeve affirmed, half-smiling at whatever secret she felt the need to keep. "Let me get you to the comm teams."

"Yes, sir."

As Reeve transferred her, he exhaled deeply. He then looked down at the man working at his computer and trying not to acknowledge Reeve's presence in the middle of his desk.

Clearing his throat, Reeve hopped off the desk. "Thanks."

"No problem, sir."

As he recollected himself and straightened his suit, Reeve thought of the next check-ins he needed to make. As he raised his phone, however, he stopped when he spotted approaching soldiers. Several security officers stepped up to him, one saluting. While more than a few of the Public Security Division had deserted, the vast majority remained resolute. Without the manpower there would have been no hope for Midgar's people.

"Senior Director," the soldier informed him, "the clear has been given from the Sector 5 plate."

Letting out a ragged sigh of relief, Reeve rubbed his face and slicked back his hair. The plate where his mother lived had been cut off from evacuation efforts, but it looked like everything had gone smoothly. "Has anyone gotten word from the Turks?" he pressed. "None of them are answering their phones, they were last seen in that Sector."

The officers each glanced at each other, and the one who had been speaking cleared his throat. "Well…Yes. Sir, the Turks are here and have requested to speak to you."

The way the soldier had answered caused Reeve to raise an eyebrow. "…Is there an issue with their phones?"

"It's best you see in person, sir."

Everyone being mysterious that day…Reeve looked at the soldiers sideways, then waved them on. "Alright, let me see what they can't answer calls for."

The soldiers led Reeve down the office building's stairs, escorting him out the double doors into the darkened street. As he looked for the quartet in black suits, he started in surprise to find twelve instead. Smiling eagerly, the small mob glanced at one another and nodded in deference to Reeve. His jaw dropped, shocked to see every last Turk that had been considered lost in action all those months ago—yet no trace of Tseng or his subordinates.

"But, what happened…? You—You're all here…" Reeve mumbled dumbly.

Brandishing shuriken, nunchucks, blades, rods, and firearms, the Turks greeted him with a unified, "Sir!"

From the far end of the group, a man at least fifteen years Reeve's senior stepped forward, causing Reeve's jaw to slack and his breath to catch in his throat. The man moved aside long, stray strands longer than the rest of his greying-chestnut hair from his right temple. Old, deep scars that lined the left side of his face shifted as he smiled at Reeve. "Senior Director," he greeted in a deep, rumbling voice.

Unable to think before acting, Reeve threw his arms around his old friend's shoulders and pulled him into a tight hug—perhaps to make certain he wasn't a cruel vision from the Lifestream. "Veld…! Veld, you're alive…! H-How…?"

Awkwardly patting Reeve's shoulder with his false left hand, Veld Dragoon chuckled. "I'm sorry Tseng and I had to deceive you all."

Leaning back from him, his hands still planted on Veld's shoulders, Reeve let out a shocked laugh. "He…He tried to tell me…I think. Does this mean Felicia…?"

Smiling warmly, Veld nodded. "My daughter is safe too." Gently, Veld removed Reeve's hands and threw an arched eyebrow at several of the Turks—instantly silencing their sentimental giggling. "My student learned well," Veld said firmly. "I knew I made the right decision entrusting the Turks to him. Tseng regrets that he and three of his subordinates must announce their formal resignation at this time, as there are matters they must complete that conflict with their orders as Turks. He has returned command to me, and wishes to assure you the group of us will be all the Turk you will need. I agree with him."

Gawking at the group, bewildered and his eyes stinging, Reeve fumbled over his thoughts. "There's so much I need to say…"

"For now you need only delegate," Veld pressed. "The Turks await your orders. There will be time for catching up later."

Reeve blinked at him, then his gaze shifted toward what little of the open sky could be seen from their spot under the plate. "I'm not sure there will be…"

His face growing hard, Veld shook his head and his lips thinned in disappointment. "Senior Director Tuesti. I was told you worked directly with the Turks for a not insignificant amount of time. Did you take away nothing?"

In confusion Reeve rubbed his neck. "I'm not sure what you…?"

"Tseng informed me of your other efforts," Veld said. "There's a part of you doing more for the people of this world than any of us put together. Thus, you have a mission, and for a time you were practically a Turk."

Finally catching his meaning, a weary smile came to Reeve. "A Turk completes their mission without question."

Veld grinned in reply. "And failure is not an option. So, please, Senior Director. Give your orders to the Turks so you can focus on saving us all."

Reeve honestly never thought he would feel gratitude to Tseng, but as he nodded firmly he could only think of how much he wished he could thank Tseng and his team in person. He broke down to Veld what was left of the Shinra presence in Midgar, and what needed to be monitored or completed to speed up the evacuations from the plates to the undercity, and from the undercity out of the basin. Veld listened intently and nodded, gesturing to Reeve periodically to pause as he passed orders to his subordinates. In perfect Turk form they took their assignments with immediate affirmation, and few by few rushed to their new duties.

Reeve called those in the city he could reach to inform them of Veld and the Turks' collective reinstatement. An order from Chief Veld Dragoon was to be taken as one from Reeve.

Wracking his brain to think if he had missed anything, Reeve rubbed his temple. "I think…I think that's everything…" he mumbled distantly.

Veld held out his hand. "Then for the time being I'll take your phone. You need no distractions."

Hesitantly, Reeve's lips tightened, unable to relinquish the device. "There might be something else…"

"Reeve," Veld pressed in a gentle voice. "Your friend Cait is waiting for you. Focus on the mission at hand."

Sighing, Reeve begrudgingly handed over the phone. "If there's an emergency I'll be in my office."

"There will be, but it will be handled," Veld assured him with a grin. "I also want to make sure you're not disturbed." He nodded shortly to one of the Turks remaining, who eagerly ran up. "I assume you two remember each other?"

The woman with a long, sandy-brown ponytail beamed up at Reeve. She shifted the hold on her shotgun, and gave him a sharp salute.

Reeve let out a surprised chuckle and nodded. "Of course I do. There's only been one other person to ever pilot a Cait Sith."

"It's a pleasure to work with you again," she affirmed, offering a hand to shake. "I don't think you ever knew me by anything other than my original codename?"

With a gentle shrug, Reeve shook her hand. "You never gave me anything else."

"Please call me Freyra," she said, her smile growing. "I'll make sure you're given the space you need, Senior Director."

"Reeve," he corrected. "I insist."

"Lead the way, Reeve," Freyra said.

As they reached the door to his office, Reeve took a last, long breath to give himself time to think of anything he might have missed. "…I…It might be a while. In an hour could you please bring up some food for me? Whatever is fine."

Freyra laughed. "Oh, wow. A director that says 'please'!"

Snickering loudly, Reeve covered his mouth. "Excuse me. You reminded me of someone."

"Shit. It's not Reno, is it?"

"Of course not," Reeve assured her with a smirk and a wave of his hand. He removed his suit coat and draped it over the office chair, then loosened his tie while he sat on the coach. "Will you…be in the room?"

"I can find a chair outside the office," she replied. "Before you 'go'…Is it true Captain Highwind is with Cait Sith out there?"

With a soft smile, he nodded.

"Please make sure he makes it out in one piece, sir," Freyra said. "If it's true he's been to space like the rumors say, then he promised he'd tell me about it. I don't care if he's forgotten by now, I plan to hold him to it."

Chuckling, Reeve gestured to himself. "I mean, I was mostly there too? You can ask anything you like."

Arching an eyebrow, dubious, Freyra stepped to the door. "No offense, sir, but 'mostly' there isn't exactly there. That and you're not the one who made a promise."

"I'll make sure all of them get out in one piece," Reeve said. "Thank you, by the way."

Freyra smirked at him as she eased the door closed.

Leaning back in his seat, Reeve noted light feedback as Cait Sith exited sleep mode. There hadn't been any interference since the assault on Shinra tower…but who knew how well this Cait Sith would handle going face to face with Sephiroth. Reeve was grateful for the privacy, if he needed to completely take over with his knack no one would interrupt.

The first voice Reeve heard brought a smile to him. Barret's familiar base chuckled, and there was a distinctly warm tone to his words as he said, "And will ya lookie here. The good director joined us, after all."

Reeve was ready. Both of his lives were surrounded by friends. No matter what came, Reeve could face it.

The Cait Sith controls held up well enough, but the deeper into the Northern Crater the group traveled, the less responsive any long-distance signals were. Reeve's hunch had been right, as time went on he had to fully take over his puppet. None of the others would notice a difference, save for the once or twice someone had asked Reeve a question while his mouth was full of food or water—he'd had to have Cait gesture for them to wait before he could answer.

The journey to the depths of the crater was an arduous one, beasts and abominations blocking their way at every turn. Cait Sith watched his companions somehow pull through again and again, fighting against both physical enemies and the more dangerous one, exhaustion. Their breaks were brief, and as the only one not expending more than mental energy, Cait kept watch over them. At the bottom of the darkest depths, bright light signaled the point of no return, and with only a few moments of allowance to breathe, the group leapt in.

Jenova's final howl echoed across the expanse enveloped in the Lifestream's glow. Everything around the group crumbled, their tenuous footing giving way, and in a panic Cait reached for the closest of his friends. Yuffie's eyes were wide, and for the first time Reeve truly saw her for as young as she was. She grabbed onto the mooglesaurus' giant arm, and her mouth opened to speak. Over the rush of wind and the increasing, stabbing brilliance around them, Reeve couldn't make out what she said.

All fell into darkness.

Barely a whisper, lingering at the very edges of Reeve's periphery, he almost swore he heard a voice. Hoarse, feminine, and trapped in torturous agony, it wheezed, "H…Hate…I hate…everything…"

Then another, like the light tinkling of a windchime and a warm laughter. In the midst of the darkness, a glow. Not the simultaneously lifegiving and toxic sheen of the Lifestream, not the poisoned hue of Jenova, a soothing, shimmering shine. It was like home, and like the gleam in the eyes of a long-lost friend.

Reeve pushed Cait to respond to his control, and bit by bit the puppet and its mount pulled themselves up. As abstract as the depths had become, this new space barely registered as euclidean at all. A ball of shimmering white pulsated at the center of a tangle of blood red, coral-like splinters—around it drifted chunks of rock. Splayed across them, Cait Sith could see his friends.

Dragging himself to his feet groggily, Barret rubbed his shoulder and hesitantly touched his face. "Ow…" His sunglasses were absent. Irritably, Barret shook his head. "Shit, man…I liked those…"

Cloud's voice came next. "B-Barret?"

"Yeah," Barret affirmed, looking around their new surroundings. "Everybody still with us? Say somethin' if you ain't dead."

Weak confirmations sounded off, Cait chiming in. The fact that the puppet was holding up so well was impressive. Not a single Cait Sith model yet had withstood getting thrown around for long, but, despite its buggy controls, this one was stubborn. Reeve was grateful for it, maybe there was some part of his partner that knew how important their mutual task was.

Cloud straightened on his chunk of drifting debris, eyes locked on the aura half-encased in crimson rock. "It's her…"

However, there was another presence. A pulse shot from around the center, icy and searing at once, thrusting each of the renegades from their perches and holding them off their feet. For half a moment Reeve felt piercing, mako-altered eyes on him, and then a figure blocked his view into the glowing aura. As though submerged in water, sheets of silver hair flowed around the phantom, and the radiance behind him threw his sharp face, tall stature, and black uniform in darkness.

Reeve struggled to regain control of Cait Sith, and he could hear each of his fellows voicing their own inabilities to move. They were all puppets now, the steadfast figure in their way holding them with his mako-altered gaze. Sephiroth stared each of them down like one might consider flies, a nuisance, but nothing more.

Shaking his head, Reeve mumbled, "It's no good…I can't…This is what we were trying to fight? How did we think we could?"

How indeed?

An icy shudder went down Reeve's spine as he looked through Cait Sith at Sephiroth. Sephiroth's eyes faced forward emotionlessly, but Reeve could sense him looking at every one of his foes at the same time…Reeve could see Sephiroth staring him down.

Reeve let out a gasp and instantly was in his office. Wiping sweat off his brow, Reeve shook his head desperately. He hadn't lost his concentration, had Sephiroth forcibly severed the connection with Cait Sith? "No, no, no…" he groaned, trying to focus. "No, I have to get back…!"

…You?

His eyes widening in horror, Reeve slowly raised his head and felt his breath lodge in his throat. There and yet not, Sephiroth stood in the center of the office. With cold, pitiless eyes the vision gazed at and through Reeve. The shimmer of the Lifestream tugged at the edges of this looming apparition, and it took a deliberate step closer.

"You," Sephitroth's deep, rumbling voice whispered. "All this time…that ridiculous cat-thing…was you?"

Sinking as far into the couch as he could, Reeve's hands gripped the cushions in terror. "F-Freyra…Freyra!"

Titling his head slightly, an amused smile crossed Sephiroth's full lips. "How very Shinra of you…to attempt to fight me with an ability that links a part of you to the Lifestream. There is never a solution other than mako, is there? But did you forget so easily…?"

The door to the office burst open, but with an unconcerned wave of Sephiroth's hand it instantly slammed shut again. Reeve heard the door rattling and straining against its hinges as Freyra's voice cried from the other side.

Sephiroth leaned close to Reeve, their noses nearly touching as he grinned savagely. "…I am the Lifestream," Sephiroth growled. The vision straightened and walked back, and Reeve's voice cracked as he felt a fraction of himself pull off of the sofa. He was still sitting, still motionless, but everything conscious was leaving the rest of himself behind.

His smile twisting in pleasure, Sephiroth chuckled. "No one who defies me enjoys the benefit of…detachment. Join them as they die, Director."

Reeve blinked, sensory settling and his breath ragged and stinging. As Cait Sith weakly raised his head, dread filled Reeve. The vision wasn't the same as usual, it was more concrete, more…present. He smelled the fresh, sharp scent of mako, he felt some trembling surface beneath his feet, he heard the cacophony of battle as his companions fought against Sephiroth—a distorted, angelic being overflowing with the power of the Lifestream itself.

The same way that Reeve was connected to Cait Sith, Sephiroth had pulled Reeve the opposite way. He wasn't exactly there, but he was present. If the others were going to die here Sephiroth would make absolutely certain they all did.

Hands grabbed Cait under his shoulders and propped him on his mount. Reeve let out a shocked cry, then whipped his head around to face Yuffie as she smiled at him. Her shoulders rose and fell with exhausted breaths, and she idly wiped blood from a cut on her lip. "Hey, I think your voice-thing is on the fritz again."

Dumbly, Cait Sith nodded. "I'm—surprised any of it works at all…"

"Ew. I like your other voice better," she said, curling her lip. "For a second there, I thought we weren't getting you back to fight at all. There's no backing down now, right? Let's go."

"Let's…Let's go," Reeve affirmed, swallowing down his discomfort. It would do no good to waste time describing his predicament. He was only in the same position they were. They were all fighting for their lives, he had no right to do otherwise.

Shuriken in hand, Yuffie propelled herself on nimble feet to rejoin the combat. On considerably-less-graceful feet, Cait Sith directed his mount forward. Being in the middle of a fight was much more hectic than watching from a distance. The faces and forms of his companions flew by him, the pounding of gunfire and a discordant orchestra of magic resonated through the air. Reeve commanded his mount to provide support for his friends, magic flowed through its wide fingers, and gentle layers of shimmering aura appeared around each of them. In the midst of the combat it wasn't necessary to thank, but Cait Sith could catch nods of approval from Vincent and Nanaki.

"Don't you hear it?" Sephiroth crooned, his silken voice booming through the heavenly space around them. "It is the universe, pulsing through me…it invites me onward."

Like a storm the rebels surrounded their enemy, swirling and leaping to avoid Sephiroth's retribution. The simultaneously hideous and beautiful entity dragged his eyes over his opponents, a series of blade-like wings that served as his right arm lashed forward. Cloud tumbled from the blow, blood bursting from his thigh. Cid skidded in front of Cloud, knocking follow-up shots back at Sephiroth with twirling swings of his polearm. The distinctive sheen of healing magic over his hand, Cloud passed soft words of gratitude.

"Gaia was never meant to be more than a stepping stone," Sephiroth continued. He snapped his left fingers, and Cid and Cloud were forced to retreat as inky orbs descended toward them, cracking and igniting as they neared. "A stepping stone to the heavens."

As Cid vaulted over Cait Sith, he scoffed, "Sure does love to hear himself talk, don't he?"

Sephiroth's focus was drawn to Nanaki as he dove forward, an aura of celestial fire surrounding him. While feathers burned away from the mass of wings that formed his lower body, Sephiroth casually waved his left arm and a series of comet-like blasts chased Nanaki's wake—throwing him off all four feet and sending him careening in front of Cait Sith.

Cait's mount grabbed Nanaki by the midsection to help him up, and Cait Sith saw too late he should have been keeping extra eyes on his opponent as Sephiroth swung his right arm again. Stuffing flew through the air, puffing out of a gash in Cait Sith's waist—and Reeve let out a stunned cry. He doubled over, Cait Sith's arms wrapping around himself. Cait Sith didn't have receptors for physical pain, there was no use for a robot to have that kind of thing. Reeve shouldn't have felt pain at all—but he did feel pain, excruciating pain…!

"C-Cait?" Nanaki whispered in shock. "You've never reacted like that…"

"I'm fine…!" Reeve croaked, a distinct worry that it wasn't true in the forefront of his mind. "I'm fine, it's not—It's not real!"

Nanaki's face skewed, bewildered. "Your voice…"

A whirlwind of black and crimson landed in front of Cait Sith and Nanaki, taking the brunt of another magic blast meant for them. Collapsing in a heap, Vincent shuddered and struggled to pull himself to his knees. "Keep…moving. Don't let him focus on you…!"

Guilt in his eye, Nanaki cringed and backed away. "I-I wasn't paying attention…!"

Vincent's teeth grit, and his breath wheezed and heaved as an ashen tone discolored his skin. "So, move…Move!"

Both Nanaki and Cait's mount dashed away as a groan from Vincent shifted into a raging howl that rattled the air. Wings exploded from his back, and rapidly all that was Vincent Valentine became Chaos. His tattered wings propelled him at Sephiroth, his sickly-yellow eyes burning with both unworldly hate and overwhelming delight. Cloud and Tifa dove aside as Chaos flew at his opponent, unconcerned with the placement—or existence—of his allies, and Sephiroth was forced to single his attention on the trails of flame following wicked claws.

His eyes flashing furiously, Sephiroth called blades of force to fend off Chaos. Chaos broke through each, cackling with bloodlust, and Sephiroth snapped, "Not even a god of this world could stop me!"

"You sure?" Yuffie shouted. "Cuz I got one that wants to test that!"

A gust of wind carrying a scent like a storm over the sea signaled the arrival of the spirit of Wutai. Leviathan hissed and lashed with bared teeth, with every lunge and strike spears of water rose and launched from its path. Throwing off the dragon's jaws from his abdomen, Sephiroth sent dark orbs at it. Struck repeatedly, the serpent writhed and luminescence dotted across its scales to signal its return to the ether—but as it began to fade a figure leapt from its back.

Using the momentum of Leviathan's escape, Tifa grappled Sephiroth, planting one booted foot in his back as she gripped his winged right arm. With a powerful thrust of her other foot, a series of sickening crunches and cracks sounded from the tangle of wings. As Sephiroth threw his head back and howled in agony, Tifa screamed, "That's for my father, you bastard!"

Sephiroth's other hand lashed out and clamped around Tifa's throat, pulling her off him. A choked sound escaped her as he viciously threw her, lacerations bursting across her exposed skin. Like a red mist, blood flew through the air as Tifa heavily hit what passed for ground in this place. Everyone called out her name as Tifa shuddered and feebly spat out red where she layed.

Cloud landed in front of her and threw up his sword to block further attacks. Barret jumped to his side, furiously howling over a hail of bullets.

"Not now—" Cloud whispered, trying desperately to steady his hand over Tifa to cast. "C'mon, not now…!"

At once, ethereal flowers bloomed under Tifa, gold, pink, and white blossoming from nothing. Glowing particles of Lifestream drifted all around Tifa and a soothing breeze passed around the battle-worn renegades. Tifa took in a deep breath as blood faded from her skin and she blearily opened her eyes.

"You…" Sephiroth's face fell, paling in disbelief. "Why won't you die? You can't fight me from the Lifestream, half-breed. I control all of it!"

Looking down at himself, Cait Sith laughed as he watched the rips and tears across him mend—seams shimmering and solidifying in place. "It is you, isn't it…?"

Chaos recoiled and folded his wings around himself, grudgingly depositing Vincent back into the battle. Landing at the ready, Vincent drew his revolver and called to his companions, "Aerith's still with us. We can't allow ourselves to waste her effort."

"Let's finish this," Cloud agreed, his brow hardening defiantly.

Sephiroth thrashed under a newly unified effort. Magic, bullets, blades, fists, claws, spears, and dice bombarded the abomination as he frantically threw counterattacks in every direction. "You're only mortal…!" he seethed viciously. "I am divine."

After a sharp whistle, Barret motioned to Cloud. "Now!"

Without the need for words, Cloud ran at him and nimbly hopped up. With a furious cry, Barret swung his arm, Cloud's boots landed on Barret's palm only long enough to be flung upward. His sword raised, Cloud stared down his opponent and grit his teeth.

In the span of the blink of an eye, Reeve could swear an after-image of Cloud brought down an identical Buster Sword—a pair of pearly wings sprouting from it before the ghostly image and Cloud's shared strike hit its mark.

Gasping for air and shudders wracking his entire, twisted body, Sephiroth's gaze grew distant. Bit by bit cracks crawled over Sephiroth's skin and his too-many limbs grew limp.

"M-M…Mother…"

Moisture welled in his unnaturally-blue eyes. "I don't…belong here…don't make me stay…!" Sephiroth's spasming, disintegrating hand reached for a star he would never see.

"Get over here!" Freyra cried from the top of the stairs.

Veld rushed between the other Turks surrounding the office, and followed Freyra inside. Deep, fresh pools of blood stained the office's couch, drawing a line to the middle of the floor where Reeve lay motionless. Cissnei held an oxygen mask over Reeve's mouth, and looked up at Veld in worry. Crimson soaked through Reeve's shirt all around his abdomen—it had been unbuttoned to apply some kind of first aid or healing, but the skin was completely untouched. With the amount of blood there should have been some kind of mark on Reeve, no matter how much magic had been layered on a wound.

Swallowing hard, Veld knelt beside Cissnei, easing out of his suit coat on his left side to better use his prosthetic. "Is he not breathing?"

"He is," Cissnei said, nodding. "But it's very weak. His skin was getting pale. I also can't get his heart rate to normal with the first aid supplies here."

"Whose blood is that?"

"It's his," Cissnei said, her lips tightening. "With how much he lost he shouldn't still be here."

Standing nearby, Alvis grumbled as he flipped through his materia. "We didn't heal him. He won't respond to magic at all."

Frowning, Veld looked to Freyra. "What happened?"

"I don't know!" Freyra blurted defensively. "He called for help—there was nothing in the room, by the way—the door locked me out on its own, and by the time I forced it open he was just—just sitting on the coach and wouldn't respond. I—He was split open, Chief—not deep, but the bleeding just wouldn't stop, and nothing would close it. Then just before you got here, the wound just—it just stitched itself up like nothing had ever been there."

His brow hardening, Veld took in this information. He flexed the fingers of his left hand. The synthetic, hardened plates in his palm parted and a shimmer of gold pulsed through the rubbery skin—embedded materia glinting just below the surface. Veld placed his hand on Reeve's forehead, allowing his unique bond with magic flow through his unconscious form. What Veld found made little sense, and his jaw fell agape. "…He's…empty."

The three of his subordinates in the room glanced between each other. Cissnei hesitantly asked, "What…do you mean 'empty'?"

Baffled, Veld shook his head. "Just…nothing. Nothing that can be healed is there. Everything alive has a touch of the Lifestream…not him."

Abruptly Reeve's eyes shot open and he jolted to a seated position, causing everyone to stumble back from him—Alvis dropping his baton and blurting out a stream of profanities. Coughing raggedly, Reeve flopped onto his back again, shaking as he rubbed his face and plucked strands of his hair away from his mouth. Blearily, he looked between all of the shocked faces gawking at him, then awkwardly strained to notice his shirt open and the blood on his clothes…and the trail of it leading to the couch. In confusion he mumbled, "What in…? Oh…Oh, that's why I felt light-headed…"

Veld let out a haggard sigh of relief. "Welcome back, Reeve." He would have to ask just how far Reeve had gone later.

"What happened?" Freyra said, rushing to her knees beside them. "I tried to help, I swear I did!"

Nodding weakly and catching his breath, Reeve limply patted her shoulder. "I know, I know. You—You couldn't have done anything…" His gaze fixed on Veld, and very subtly he smiled. "We—We did it, Veld. He's dead," Reeve whispered dryly. "Sephiroth is gone."

Those of you who have reviewed my work, you are all appreciated! I do respond to them, but only on my forum. I won't respond to comments or reviews in the documents. _

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