AN: Yay! Second chapter. Much developments ahead. And while I wrote this, I flattered myself as a real mystery author. Whether or not that's true, the verdict remains up to you. Please be kind. :D

And I know this has much to do with nothing but Franz Ferdinand! is coming over to Vancouver to perform for a music festival on Sept. 6th. I'm so psyched, I can hardly wait! I adore them, and I'll mindlessly chase them anywhere.

A bucket of awesome to those who reviewed: mom calling, Kainos Ktisis, NinjaNOE (you reviewed anonymously so I couldn't reply but thank-you for the con. crit. I'll remember to pay attention to that), Vanilla Raindrops, gingerbreadbear and vLuna. I love hearing your guys' reactions.


'..blood on the streets, you see the trouble happening..'

- The Enemy


Chapter Two

Down will come baby


Tifa rose early the next morning, and was disappointed to find that Cloud had already left. There was a note from him on the kitchen table. The sun was not out, a cluster of clouds against the pale grey sky, warning of heavy rainfall. She wondered if Cloud brought his helmet.

Sighing, she tacked the note to the fridge door. She had expected him to sleep in late. The news of the missing brothers was worrying, and if she knew Cloud, he almost certainly wouldn't have caught much sleep last night.

How much rest could a person miss before he collapsed?

What would it take for Cloud to realize he didn't need to spread himself paper thin anymore?

Tifa shivered as she brewed a pot of coffee. It was colder in the kitchen than her bedroom. The wooden floorboards sapped the heat greedily, spreading an icy prickling sensation which numbed her feet. She rooted through the hallway closet until she found a pair of slippers. Then she laid out the kids' shoes and jackets before shuffling back to prepare for breakfast.

At ten to eight, Tifa poured the pancake batter into pan and after setting the stove to low, hurried up the stairs to rouse Marlene and Denzel. She reached Marlene's room first but the little girl moaned for five more minutes so Tifa moved on to next door. Denzel was much better, his eyes bright and alert when he cheerily wished her a good morning then darting off to the bathroom. As she treaded lightly down the stairs, she could hear Marlene banging on the door, hissing: "C'mon!" and "Brush faster!"

When she reached to stove, Tifa adjusted the dial to medium and began flipping the pancakes, humming all the while.

They weren't hard to make, pancakes. The trick, she mused, was to flip at the right time, when the edges were dry and the top stops bubbling. Otherwise, they turned out charred and black like the time Cloud volunteered to cook breakfast. Tifa winced in memory. At the time, she hadn't the heart to tell him it was inedible. Rather, she sneaked a pack of granola bars and trial mix to the kids when his back was turned.

Once all five pancakes were resting on a plate, a curl of steam rising from its core, she sliced a slab of butter and waited.

Eventually the two made it into the kitchen though Marlene, Tifa noticed, was barely able to stifle her yawn as she bounded towards her for a hug. She pushed her palm to Marlene's forehead worriedly, murmuring, "Bad sleep?"

"Kind of. I dreamt that the sun didn't come out so the whole world was dark. And there were lots of monsters everywhere, only they didn't want to eat us, they wanted us to spin straw into gold for them. You were there too, Denzel! But when you told them that was impossible, they made you disappear! Then I was alone with the hay." Marlene sucked in a breath, shrugging her shoulders apologetically. "I don't remember much after that."

"Oh, sweetheart." said Tifa gently.

She felt a dip in her stomach but understood there were just some things kids couldn't be protected from. "Here, have some orange juice. It'll wake you right up and you can forget about that horrible dream."

"Yeah, "Denzel piped up from the table, spearing his fork into a sausage. He bit into it with relish, swallowing the mouthful with a big gulp then continued kindly. "Maybe you should try sleeping again with the light on, Marlene."

'No!" Marlene shook her head vehemently. "I'm not scared! The light stays off." Closing the door to the fridge, she accepted an empty plate, thanked Tifa, and sat down, cutting her pancake into itty pieces.

Tifa opened her mouth to say something then closed it.

She was familiar with the stubborn set of her jaw and knew nothing she said would sway Marlene's decision. Marlene was persistent like that. She recalled an old conversation about new recruits for Avalanche. In his own words, he'd said he 'didn't like no pushovers." Barret would be pleased.

Instead, Tifa smiled mildly the girl then moved to stand behind her. Her fingers weaved deftly through Marlene's hair, smoothing out the knots. "Guess who called yesterday?"

"Was it Yuffie?"

"Papa?"

Tifa turned her gaze from Denzel to Marlene and nodded. "Yes, he's popping in to visit soon, sweetie. Except you know your papa, he didn't say when. He probably knows you like a surprise."

"Really?!" cried Marlene, twisting in her seat to look at Tifa. She grinned happily. "I hope it's this week. Then when he comes, I can finally show him my new book. And the pictures I drew at school!"

Afterwards, Marlene seemed to perk up considerably. She finished off what was left on her plate in high spirits then lowered it carefully into the sink, Denzel quickly following suit a second later. By a quarter to nine, the two were bundled up in toques and mittens and walking out the door, Marlene taking the lead while Denzel waved goodbye.

***

The choice of whom to see first was not difficult. Tifa was reluctant to delay the meeting and so didn't mind going about it alone. Cloud, no doubt, may have intended to come but Tifa suspected in this situation two was not better than one. Instead of comforting, being probed by two adults might easily frighten the girl more.

Neely was nineteen years old, a waitress employed at a diner on Dovern Avenue, and the sole guardian of her two younger brothers, Leron and Jerome. She was also known for her fiery temper, and strong, capable set of lungs. Before Meteor collided with Midgar, she practiced singing to be a local theatre actress. After their parents perished in the Geostigma outbreak four years ago, she tucked her dreams away to find other means to support herself and her siblings. Tifa was the one who referred her to Mrs. Rudd.

Tifa always dressed very plainly whenever she went out, so she did not have any trouble passing almost unnoticed along the narrow streets to Neely's neighborhood. The cobblestones were sparse and oddly spaced which made walking difficult. She found herself wishing she wore boots instead of sneakers.

A sudden gust of wind blew off her balance, carrying with it the sounds of children's giggles and play rhymes long before her eyes touched the scene. She frowned. Although the WRO established free education, school was a luxury some families could not afford. They rather keep kids at home to help with chores until they were old enough to be apprenticed to a tradesman.

It took her several moments to push her way through unyielding bodies of men and women intent on crossing the road to the other side. She forced her way between two very brawny miners, soot still on their sleeves and overalls, and nearly bowled over the tall, slender man walking ahead of her. There was a permanent discoloration on the right side of his face, and he clutched a familiar silver flask in his weathered hands.

"Mr. Bell," Tifa said breathlessly, straightening herself and dusting her skirt off. By now, the surging crowd had largely abated and she could move more freely. "Sorry about that. I'm glad I bumped into you. Can I speak to you for a moment? I promise I won't take up much of your time. It's about Neely."

The man pulled his cap in recognition but shook his head politely. "No can do, Tifa. I'm late to work as it is and the boss can be a real monster. But sorry business, that. Poor Neely loved her brothers, even when they did stupid things. They were all she had left. Tell you what though, my dear, my flask is dry. I'll swing by tonight for two bottles of Corel whisky. And I can answer your questions then."

There was no choice but to accept his offer so she agreed and Mr. Bell hastened down the streets and rejoined the masses.

She continued walking for a few more minutes then turned into a half-hidden crescent. Ten rickety houses stood in a line, their rooftops blackened by the chimneys puffing a thick column of grey acrid smoke. Tifa coughed twice, shielding her eyes.

A messy scrawl of last names substituted for door numbers and she headed towards the one which read, Tarin. The front porch creaked as she climbed the steps. Tifa knocked, and barely a second passed before it was flung open by a freckled, red haired girl with a tremendously eager expression on her face. It fell when she recognized Tifa. "Oh." She forced a grin on her face. "Hello."

Smiling in return, Tifa tucked her bangs nervously behind her ear. "Hi, Neely. Can I come in?" She tried to peer into the house but Neely's body blocked her view.

"..I'm ..not good for company right now. The house is a mess..an-"

"It's about Leron and Jerome." said Tifa softly.

"Oh." Neely whispered, face ashen. Her hands, gripping the door frame, were white and Tifa was afraid the girl would collapse. She grabbed her arm to steady her. "Thanks, I'm okay. Really…I didn't. ..didn't know the news would spread so fast."

Tifa didn't reply. There was no answer she could give which alleviated the girl's fear. She settled on easing the door open and helping Neely inside. It was dark. There was single lamp lit in the living room and it dimmed haphazardly each time there was movement nearby. They sat on the couch.

"Can you tell me what happened?"

Neely stared hard at the floor. It was a long time before she spoke and when at length she did, she heaved a sigh, then said, "You know, before he died, dad always kept the boys in check. Not me. I followed mum."

She paused. Then she glanced up, her eyes misty and faraway. "Nobody asked me if I wanted to be the leader. It just happened. And I know I get angry easily and scold the boys but I really love them. I do!" Her face tightened . "When I told them I wish they'd just get up and leave, I didn't mean it! I was mad and they wouldn't listen to me."

Tifa remained silent, knowing this was something Neely needed to get off her chest. Even in the darkened room, the girl's red rimmed eyes did not escape her notice. She wondered how many hours Neely must have stayed up, waiting for her brothers' return with the memory of their fight and her regret weighing heavily on her conscience.

"Mr. Bell said you three were having fights for a while now. What were they about, Neely?" Tifa probed gently.

The wind rustled the curtains, sending shadows reeling across the water-stained walls. One particular corner was especially bad, the once yellow flower wallpaper peeling off in sheets.

Neely laughed quietly. "Money."

Looking at her, Tifa felt her heart give a lurch. Neely had large dark green eyes, fringed behind black lashes. If caught in the sunlight, they would surely sparkle like gems. Now, however, they were lifeless, sad and full of self loathing.

Tifa bit her lip. Though reality had hardened her, she was brought up and raised in a house where money was considered to be an indelicate subject. She went ahead anyway. "Were you in debt?"

"What?" For a moment, Neely appeared shocked then collected herself. "No, no, we weren't. We don't have a lot but we manage, Tifa. Always."

"Then..?"

Neely abruptly stood up, slapping her hand against the armrest. "It wasn't the lack of gil! It was the sudden presence of it. Too much all at once."

"What do you mean?" asked Tifa sharply.

"One night, they just waltzed home, saying we never needed to worry about money no more. Then two days later Leron gave me a new dress. It was real pretty, purple silk, I think. But It was also obvious we couldn't afford it. So I asked them, where they got the cash and they told me to butt out."

Neely wrung her hands. "That's why I got so mad! They just wouldn't tell me. All these secrets."

She needed more. "You and your brothers used to be so close. When did all this begin?"

"About a month ago." Neely answered bitterly.

"Were they hanging out with anyone in particular?"

"No. Just their idiot friends"

She leaned forward. "What are their names?"

Neely grasped the point immediately. "Michael, Chel and Ares. I trusted them. Our families knew each other. They said they know nothing. You think they were lying?"

"They might not be," Tifa assured her. "Did anybody else come over?"

"Only a plumber and Mr. Bell. He's a grouch, but ever since our parents died he's always coming over and making sure we have enough to eat."

"I see."

Discouraged, Tifa sank back into the couch, listening to the rest of the girl's tale and pausing only to ask a question or offer a reply.

After half an hour, she rose to her feet. "We'll find them." She wanted passionately to help Neely, to give her strength to go on. "Wherever they are, doesn't matter. We'll bring them home."

Neely looked at Tifa as if trying to discern whether she was speaking genuinely or reciting a common courtesy. Then she took a deep breath and let it out soundlessly. "Tell me honestly, Tifa. Do you think my brothers ran away?"

She froze. "I don't know," she admitted quietly. "But you raised those boys well, Neely. They know right from wrong. And whatever the truth is we'll just have to meet and face it.."

Neely stared at her, aching to believe her. The struggle was naked in her eyes, in the bruised planes of her face and the twist in her mouth. At last, very slowly, she nodded.

***

Tifa walked down the road in silence, her mind greatly unsettled by her conversation with Neely.

When she asked why she hadn't simply informed the WRO of her missing siblings, Neely had stared at her horrified, saying, "I can't do that! What if they really were doing something illegal! I don't want my brothers arrested!"

Her thoughts churning, Tifa snaked her way through the crowd.

It was still impossible to determine the reason why the boys left but she now had a vague clue. There was money involved. And according to Neely, lots of it. Except were the boys' disappearance connected to the pursuit of money or escape from interrogation because of the money?

A young boy darted by and she jerked back to avoid being squashed between two formidably sized gentlemen. Craning her neck around their bodies, Tifa frowned. Instead of thinning past the intersection, the crowd seemed to multiply.

Curious, she took her cell phone out and checked the time. 11 o'clock. It wasn't even lunch time.

Suddenly, the sounds of sirens pierced the air. Tifa started. The feeling of her throat constricting rapidly began to form. She ducked her head and pressed on, catching snatches of hushed dialogue, gasps and shrieks. She quickened her steps.

***

Cloud was in the throes of delivering a package that morning as he rode his way across the rugged landscape. Fat droplets of rain were slapping the sides of his face, and the damp raw wind stung the skin, freezing his cheeks and arms.

He swore lightly under his breath, tightening his grip on the handles. He should have brought along his helmet. The thick sheet of rain effectively limited his vision to barely five meters ahead and crushed his hopes of arriving in town early.

At least the weather had persuaded most to hole up indoors, the number of vehicles decreasing the further Cloud drove from Edge, freeing the main highway.

Last night he had spoken to Tifa about the missing brothers. Long after their discussion ended, the unvoiced conclusion they reached continued to prey on his mind, plaguing his sleep and filling his head with questions during the hours he was awake.

He squinted at an oncoming road sign. It listed Kalm as being 120 miles away and indicated the presence of a nearby rest stop, inn, and local diner.

If the boys had not run away, were their only other viable alternative, abduction? Or was there perhaps something far more sinister at work? The toppling of former corporation giant Shinra five years ago upped the ante for other smaller 'companies' vying for control, and power. Did they somehow become entangled with the black market? And Edge was built on the ruins of Midgar, there were plenty of secret dens and collapsed tunnels. Could they also still be inside the city, only hiding?

The meeting with Yuffie was scheduled for tomorrow. Her current office was at a small WRO camp just half a mile outside of the city. Before they leave, he was going to make absolutely certain one of these questions were answered.

***

Cloud's hair was considerably deflated by the time he parked Fenrir at Three Cups during late noon. Tucking the package securely under his arm, he pushed the door open. An elderly lady outside had kindly informed him his customer would be indoors. A string made a bell jangle somewhere at the rear of the pub.

"I'm looking for a Rance Isenhart? I have a package for him."

Several heads turned in his direction, some raking their eyes at his appearance with an amused expression, and others, bored. Cloud let his gaze roam the room. There were two ceiling fans and close to seven tables. The place consisted mostly of middle aged workers and a handful of scruffy young men swigging a few glasses in hopes the hard liquor would impress the pretty waitress.

Though in his opinion, Tifa would always be prettier.

He asked again. Someone coughed then a voice said:

"Hullo, dear. You must be looking for my husband. He's in the backroom."

He turned. A plump woman of about sixty years was smiling pleasantly at him from behind the bar counter. She held a glass in her hand and was polishing it. "My name's Maris. Take a seat. Rance will be out shortly."

"C-Cloud. Thanks."

She beamed at him then whirled around and screeched shrilly, "Rance! Come up. Your delivery is here!"

There was a tumbling crash followed by a loud curse. Cloud winced in sympathy but Maris wasn't remotely fazed. "Hurry up!" she repeated. "You're keeping this nice boy waiting."

"Alright! Stop your yelling, woman. I'm coming."

Barely a moment passed when the backdoor burst open and a great hulking man with a scraggly head of grey hairs and a matching beard lumbered out. He wore a surprisingly floral apron round his waist and in his hands he clamped four bottles of beer. He took one look at Cloud then sighed exasperatedly back at his wife.

"Well, he's not in a hurry now is he?"

"You don't know that. A nice young man like him always has someone to return to. Don't you dearie?"

Cloud coloured but didn't affirm or refute her statement. Smiling, Maris nodded knowingly then stepped away to answer a customer's call. Rance shook his head.

"I apologize 'bout the missus," he shot a look at his wife. She sniffed, scribbling madly with pencil and pad. "So you got something for me, eh?"

"Yes, sir." Cloud passed him the package.

Rance cradled the packet and inhaled deeply. "Ah, goat cheese. There's never a smell quite like it."

He thanked Cloud heartily and after paying him, offered him a glass of spirit before he left. Cloud hesitated but the owner was adamant so he chose a stool and waited. He was finishing the last drop when a hand tapped him on the shoulder. He spun around.

A middle aged couple gazed anxiously back at him.

"Sorry," The man spoke. "Excuse me but are you Mr. Strife? The Cloud Strife?"

A hush fell across the room. Immediately suspicious, Cloud narrowed his eyes then relaxed slightly when the man didn't pull out a gun. "Yes." he answered guardedly. He could acutely feel the eyes of the other patrons listening in.

Suddenly the man looked relieved, and the woman beside him gave a tearful sob. "Oh thank goodness. Adine thought I was crazy when I told her Rance was having his special ingredients delivered by a service named 'Strife'." Then his face became grave. "My name is Jones and this is my wife, Adine. We need your help. Our daughter, Lisa, went missing two months ago."

His wife jerked her head and said earnestly, "We reported her to WRO but so far, nothing."

Cloud stiffened. It was like a bucket of ice cold water was sloshed at his face and dripping pin pricks down the length of his spine. "Missing?" he rasped.

Jones looked at him strangely. "Yes. I said so."

"You live in this town?"

"Yes."

"How old is Lisa?"

"Eleven."

That was Denzel's age. He didn't even want to imagine. He couldn't bear the thought. In an instant he felt another pang of pity for the parents engulf him.

"Do you have anybody against you?"

"You think I'm a wanted man? No!"

"You're sure?"

"Course I am!" He was shaking now, but his eyes did not waver.

"Where did you last see her?"

"Outside our door. She was going off to school. We waved good bye." Mrs. Jones replied, her voice thick with grief. "We haven't seen our baby since."

"Can you describe Lisa to me, please. What does she look like?"

"She's always been small for her age, 4'8 or maybe a bit more. She has short brown hair and brown eyes. And the loveliest smile. That day Lisa was wearing a pink dress."

Her voice cracked and she leaned into her husband for support. Jones slid an arm around his wife's shoulder, drawing her close and murmuring hushed word of comfort into her ear. After a moment, she quietened.

Jones lifted his head, his expression solemn and pleading. The face of a man cornered, with no options, faith or personal pride left.

"Please, we're begging you. We're desperate. Help us. Find our little girl."

***

It was a little past evening when Cloud finally returned to Seventh Heaven. His encounter with the Jones carried significant implications for Neely's brothers and he was keen on sharing it with Tifa. However, the moment he walked through the door, he sensed something odd.

The first thing which struck him was the bar's peculiar emptiness for the time. The few patrons who were drinking, appeared to be either shaken or immersed deep in thought.

"Cloud, you're back!"

Denzel hovered restlessly near the pantry door. His hair was mussed, his face pinched and pale.

Cloud felt his pulse race. He strode over, not caring when the counter gate slammed shut with a bang.

"What's wrong?" he breathed.

"T-there was an accident today. Near the big statue. And Mr. Bell.." Denzel gulped audibly. "He died, Cloud."