Notes: Thanks to Kaze and Lisa for plot help! And the female scientist is my character.

Chapter One

31 Days: Clad in the Beauty of a Thousand Stars

Key Blade: Disruption

She is running.

I can see her from behind as she flees over the wooded, grassy area---her long brown hair streaming out in a ponytail, her white coat's edges flapping in the breeze---the starlight highlighting her form. She is clutching something in her arms, holding onto it as if her very life depends on keeping it safe. I cannot see what it is. Whatever it is, is wrapped in a dark blanket.

There is an intense feeling of panic as she stumbles around a corner, nearly tripping over a rock. But then, regaining her balance, she rushes on. Something is chasing her . . . or someone. She does not want them to catch up, to rip away what she is carrying. I can almost hear the pounding of her heart, to reach out and touch the tension in the air.

Vague words are breathed, barely discernible at first. Her voice is soft and terrified.

"Please . . . please don't wake up. . . . Please don't cry out. . . ."

She runs under an overhanging cliff at what appears to be the blue canyons, the Dark Depths. Her strength is spent, and yet she still must go on. She knows this, but for the moment she sinks down, trembling as she pulls back the folds of the blanket.

Bright, confused green eyes blink up at her. It's a child . . . a boy, not more than two years old, perhaps even younger. Sensing her fear, he moves close to her, snuggling against her breast as he hugs her. A shock of silver hair is revealed as the covering falls.

"Mommy?" The young voice is hesitant and doubtful, as well as bewildered. He wonders why she is so upset.

She begins to silently weep, holding him close to her as she lays her head against his. It's as if she realizes she will never see him after this is over.

Sephiroth started awake, his eyes snapping open. He was breathing roughly, his chest heaving with the motions. He sank back against the cold, white marble, barely acknowledging the iciness against his flesh.

It seemed that he should still be in the dream world. He should still see the woman. He should yet hear her panicked voice. And the child should still be there, confused and innocent as he embraced his mother. But instead it was the reality of Castle Oblivion and the endless captivity.

It would be nice to make the excuse that he had had the dream because of what Hojo had said, and that the characters had been influenced by the photograph. But that would not explain why the incubus had come periodically over the last few years, intensifying with each replay. And each time he dreamed the scenario, he saw more of what had happened. This had been the first time he had heard the child address the woman.

The fact of the boy being himself had bothered him ever since he had seen the identity. He had told Zack about it when he had awakened from the first nightmare that had pictured the child; not by his express choice, but because he had fallen out of bed and Zack had heard and come running. And of course, he had managed to get Sephiroth to tell all.

He closed his eyes again, remaining awake, but recollecting their conversation. It was so much more pleasant to think of that, when he had been safe at home with his friends, then to focus on the horror of his current location.

"Seph?"

I look over at Zack in the doorway. His hair is a wild mess, and he's trying in vain to choke back a yawn. At the moment he doesn't have his cane, and instead has a hand placed on the doorframe. His other hand is over his mouth.

"You okay, pal?" he asks as the yawn finally passes. "You look kinda upset."

"I'm fine," I grunt. Complaining over a recurring dream is not what I tend to do, and I don't plan to start.

Zack smirks. "Yeah, I can trust one of your 'I'm fines' from here to that rug!" he declares, pointing to the rug upon which my lower right wing is limply lying.

"Your confidence in me is overwhelming," I answer in sarcasm. Slowly I maneuver into a sitting position on the bed. I will not be resuming my slumber for a while. That ridiculous dream has left me wide awake.

"Oh, I trust ya on just about everything," Zack says as he saunters over and plops down beside me, "except your 'I'm fines'!"

He yawns again, this time with more ferocity. "Man!" he mumbles when it stops. "Almost dislocated my jaw."

I just shake my head. "You should go back to bed," I tell him.

"I will!" he assures me. "After we talk."

"There's nothing to talk about."

Though even as I'm speaking, I know this line of conversation is pointless. Somehow he will manage to extract the truth of this preposterous dream, whether I want to discuss it with him or not. I see very little meaning in speaking about such a thing. It isn't as if that will change what is. Though at times people do re-experience actual memories in their dreams, there is no way that this could be something such as that.

He watches me, his expression sobering. "Were you dreaming about . . . your death again?" he asks, his tone quiet.

"No." I'm certain my annoyance is being written on my features. "It was a dream of something that never could have happened."

Zack blinks. "Sounds weird already!" he declares.

"It is." I pause, running a hand over my face.

". . . I see a woman, maybe in her early twenties. It's night, and she's running to the Dark Depths, carrying something in her arms. She pleads for it not to make a sound and alert some unknown presence of where they are. Then a small child looks up at her and I see that he is myself."

Zack gives a low whistle. "That's a puzzle," he agrees. "And this lady doesn't look like your mother?"

"No. She seemed to be a scientist." I frown. "I've had the dream before, but this is the first time I've seen what she was holding."

This interests Zack a great deal. "How long have you been having it?" he inquires, leaning forward.

I shrug. "Off and on for several years," I answer. "I don't think I ever had it before my death." I give him a bored look. "And I don't think that the shock of dying brought a long-buried memory to the forefront of my mind. Nothing such as that could have ever happened. I lived in peace with my parents until their deaths."

Zack slowly nods. "Where did you live, anyway?" he asks. I rarely talk about my childhood, and it doesn't surprise me that he is curious. Zack is the sort of person who likes visiting places where his friends grew up. You have said that it is probably due to sentimentality, and I don't doubt that's a part of it. The fact that it is one of Zack's traits is not a secret.

I lean back. "In an area of Hollow Bastion that used to be well-to-do," I say. "It was destroyed in the Heartless attack." I've never been back since, except once, during the year when no one recognized me. I had gone out of a morbid desire to see exactly what the damage had been. At the time, I had been entertaining vague thoughts of moving back into it since no one knew me. But when I had seen the state of it, and of the surrounding neighborhood, I abandoned all such ideas. Moving into such a building would have been disastrous.

Zack frowns. "Must've been awful, to see it like that," he remarks.

I shake my head. "I'm not a sentimental person. You know that."


"But still," Zack protests, "your house . . . !" He gestures. "You must've had a lot of good memories there."

"And I still have them," I answer. "The house being decimated doesn't change that." Now I begin to ease my body under the covers. It's late and I want to try sleeping again.

Zack understands. He begins to get up, yawning once more. "That is still really weird about that dream," he says. "Especially the fact that it's recurring! It's gotta mean something."

"Cloud would make some sarcastic comment about its origins laying in the snack he had before bed."

Zack smirks. "Yep." He sobers. "But what about you, Seph? What do you think it means?"

I sink into the pillow. "I don't know. At this point in the night, I don't care."

"Okay. Night, Seph." Zack heads for the door, giving me a wave as he goes.

"Goodnight."

It's true that the exhaustion is sweeping over me and that is my main reason for wanting to be left alone now. But also, I don't want to think about the dream and its foolishness. The fact that I was added to its contents must be some strange coincidence.

Or is that even more ludicrous? What if I did have some odd experience as a child, and my parents never wanted to tell me about it? I could have blocked it from my mind.

Bah. I can't figure it out.

Again the green eyes opened, taking in the room that was becoming all too familiar. Everything was the same, including the fact that he was alone. And that was perfectly alright with him. Who knew how long it now was to the experiment---two hours, two minutes. . . . Any time would be too soon. But at least he could be alone for now.

The dreams had chronicled an actual experience. It would only be inane obstinance to deny it. Did that mean the woman running with him actually was his biological mother? What kind of a person had she been? She had given her life for him, if Hojo was to be believed. But why on earth would she have married such a creature? It was impossible to imagine Hojo ever being different. Even if he had not always been fanatical or insane, there must have been hints.

Maybe he had forced her into it, exercising his strength and authority over her. Maybe he had even threatened someone she cared about. That would be just like him. Maybe she had married him out of fear.

He clenched his fists. Had his life been bought with bloodshed? Would he not exist if someone had not died to seal that marriage? He could not know that, though it seemed plausible---especially after the knowledge of what had been done to his uncle. And would he be alive now if that woman, his biological mother, had not sacrificed her own existence?

Hojo would not stop at anything. That was all too obvious now; as if Sephiroth should not have realized it long ago. But to use his own wife and son in his experiments! Sephiroth had never imagined him as having a family. It had seemed too preposterous. Now Sephiroth was being forced to acknowledge the truth. If it was Hojo's word alone, he never would. But the old photograph could not have been easily faked. And adding his dream, when he had not consciously recalled seeing the brown-haired woman prior to viewing that picture, made it all fit too well.

And it was causing other doubts to begin creeping into his mind. Had his father actually died in battle, as he had believed? Or had Hojo been responsible for that as well, deciding that the man was of no further use? And his mother, ill for so long. . . . Could she have been slowly poisoned?

These thoughts were too horrifying to bear. How could he ever stand to think of their deaths as being preventable, if he had only known, if Hojo had not been able to torment them? He turned his head to the side, as if by so doing he was displaying his rejection of the idea.

His wings stiffened as the door opened. Determined footsteps began the journey across the big room, too light to be a man's. Besides, he could hear the high heels clicking on the marble. As he turned to look, Hojo's fellow mad scientist came into view. The green eyes narrowed. He detested her almost as much as he did Hojo. She was more detached than Hojo, possibly because she was not related to him (or was she? In this anomalous situation, who could say?), but her businesslike, scientific approach was still annoying. Especially when it pertained to him.

She adjusted her glasses, looking him up and down. "Well, Sephiroth, I would say that you are ready for the next stage," she remarked, a cool smirk flashing over her features. She shared her merciless traits with Hojo. While he would probably be delighted and amused if anyone begged for kindness---which Sephiroth most certainly would not---she would cross her arms and observe, commenting on how far they had fallen. Her entire manner and dress spoke of her no-nonsense personality, from her crisp white coat to her bobbed blonde hair.

He glowered at her the same way he had Hojo. As before, speaking would not avail him anything. Part of him wanted to know what the "next stage" would entail, but it was not likely that he would be told. And as soon as he was released to be taken to the operating room, he would try again to get away. If he could only get out of this prison, he would be able to teleport home.

"I still see that defiance in your eyes," she smiled. "You always were that way."

Now his eyes widened. She also knew him from the past?

"You even told Dr. Hojo that you hated him," she said, "at the tender age of two years."

And that opinion had not changed at all. He brought his lower wings up, not wanting them to be trampled on by the thugs who were approaching the room. And they needed to be ready for attack. If the henchmen were coming, that meant he would be released soon. And he would only have one chance.

"Dr. Hojo and I work independently, but at times we share our research," she told him. "Your case has always been one which has captured both our interests. I was with him and your mother, Lucrecia Crescent, during the time your early progress was being monitored."

That did not impress him. But he had to wonder what else she might know.

If she was planning to say more, she changed her mind as the thugs lumbered in. One cracked his knuckles as they walked to where Sephiroth was manacled. Another gave a sick smirk. The blood-thirst in all of their eyes was all too apparent.

He regarded them in disgust. Little more than street punks. He had delivered injuries to a good many of them during his stay, for which they were always furious. The only reason why they managed to triumph over him was because there were more of them and they were fighting unfairly. Though Sephiroth's growing weakness from the experimentation never helped, either. And he was not allowed to eat a great deal. His continuing endurance was one of the aspects that fascinated Hojo so much.

"Good," the woman said now, looking over the undesirable men, "you're on time. Get him loose." She nodded towards Sephiroth. Of course, she would not dare to set him free by herself. He would be able to overpower her. She would just observe.

"Right, boss," said the thug in the lead. He reached up, unlocking the handcuff around Sephiroth's right wrist. The arm dropped limply to his side, stinging as the circulation began to return. As the left arm also fell, the urge became great to rub the hand over his right arm. But his left arm was just beginning to awaken as well. Both felt extremely numb. They had better be strong enough that he could begin his assault in a moment.

Now they were undoing the restraints around his ankles. Two thugs grabbed for his upper arms with their calloused paws.

"Okay," said one. "Let's move it."

In an instant Sephiroth spread his wings, striking both of the bullies hard in their mid-sections. They cried out, stumbling back as they slammed into their comrades. Not expecting the sudden added weight, those men yelped as well, flailing as they struggled to keep their balance.

Sephiroth did not waste any time. He flapped his wings with ferocity, the motion lifting him into the air. Higher, higher . . . until he was by the ceiling many feet above the floor. The henchmen cried out in frustration and anger, staring up at him from where they were sprawled on their backs. The female scientist, who had stepped aside to avoid the chaos, was regarding him with crossed arms and an unreadable expression.

Maybe she was wondering what he planned to do with himself now. He could fly around the ceiling all he wanted, and he could even escape the room and go into the corridor beyond, but then what? It was not likely that he would be able to get away altogether. He did not even know where any doors leading outside were located. Nor had he seen any windows. And eventually, he would grow exhausted and have to come down.

He might fail. As logic stood, he probably would without a doubt. But he was going to try. He was going to do everything he could to get out of this infernal pit.

I'm running through one of the forest areas away from the city. I know why, too---I'm looking for Seph. I know I've gotta find him, and fast; that it's critical to his well-being to get to him. So I go flying over logs and shrubs and get smacked in the face by leafy tree branches, but I keep going. Seph is what's important.

I scream for him, my voice echoing all over the woods, but I only get some small animals to answer me. They make their little animal sounds, scolding me for disturbing them, and I can feel their eyes watching me as I keep running. This urgency is just getting stronger. Seph's hurting. I know he's hurting! I just don't know why.

Did he go out flying and have trouble with his wing again? Did he have to land and ended up really hurt? Or what if some of those creeps even hurt him? We don't know where Hojo went now. All we know is that he's left the castle in Hollow Bastion. But he's somewhere. He's always somewhere, and he never stops doing awful things to Seph!

I know this isn't like me, and I'm worried for me to feel this way, but I think I can honestly say I hate that guy. I just hate him! I wanna do something horrible to him, break him into a million pieces, because of the stuff he's done. But I've gotta control myself. The last thing I ever want to do is to give in to hatred the way poor Seph did when he lost himself.

I bust free of the leafy stuff by running into a clearing. From here I can see the small pool that's supposed to grant wishes. The water looks dark, since it's night and all, and the starlight's reflecting off the surface. And just to the side of it is Seph.

I just stop and stare at him for a minute. He's not facing me; he's gazing up into the sky. The stars are shining down on his wings and his hair, too, making them stand out all the more. It's almost . . . I don't know, ethereal or something. Or maybe surreal's a better word.

I snap out of it, moving closer to him. "Seph?" I call, reaching to grab his shoulder. He's not wearing his coat for some reason, and I touch his cool skin.

He turns, and I can't keep from gasping in horror. The look in his eyes . . . ! I can hardly stand it. He's suffering, the misery bigger than any other feelings I see there. I'm not even sure he really sees me. It's like he's . . . he's looking through me or something.

I grab both of his shoulders. "Seph!" I can feel him getting stiff. He doesn't like being touched.

But then his eyes kinda flicker, and I can see he does know me. He's staring at me like he can't believe I'm real. "Zack . . ." He reaches out, grabbing at me, and then just pulls me close like I'm his lifeline. He's shaking, his wings twitching and brushing against me.

Then I hug him back, clutching at him like I don't want to let go. Seph's never done this before. What's wrong? What happened to him?! I just hold him tight, feeling my eyes getting prickly.

"Seph . . . oh Seph . . . what happened to you?!" But I don't really expect him to answer.

He doesn't. He just keeps clinging to me, broken.

And I can't not cry.

"Zack! Zack, wake up."

Cloud stared at his friend, worry and anxiety crossing over his features. He was trying to drive the Jeep over as much of the bumpy terrain that he could. They had been this way before, but not down the path being taken now. Soon he would have to stop the vehicle and they would get out to look around. Zack, unable to drive with his leg, had agonized in the passenger seat until at last he had fallen into an equally-fitful slumber.

Zack had barely slept the last week, of course. How could he be expected to even know how to do so, when Sephiroth had gone missing? Cloud was worried too, even though he tried not to show it. If Zack had to think about comforting him, in addition to everything else, it might be too much for him to handle.

Now Cloud pulled on the brake, bringing the Jeep to a halt. Zack was crying out for "Seph" in his sleep, turning his head to the side. The anguished tones were more than Cloud could bear. He half-turned, reaching across the seat to grab Zack's shoulder.

"Wake up!" he exclaimed again, giving Zack a firm shake.

Zack started, his lavender eyes flying open. He looked over at Cloud, as if trying to comprehend his presence. He was still half in his dream. Seph . . . where was Seph? Seph had been hanging onto him, not wanting to let go, afraid to let go. . . . And Zack had not intended to let go.

But they still had not found him. It had been a week, and there had not even been any evidence of what could have happened. He was just gone, like he had vanished into thin air.

Zack leaned forward in the seat, determination mixing with his panic. "We have to find Seph!" he burst out. The horrible devastation in his dream could not come to pass. They had to find him before he ended up like that.

Cloud gripped at the steering wheel with his other hand, even though they had stopped. "We will," he said, his voice quiet. He wanted to offer reassurance to Zack, but his words sounded so hollow. Where else could they look? It was getting so discouraging, when every location was a dead end. If they could even just find something, some indication of what had gone wrong . . . !

Zack was not listening. He was staring in shock at the area they were in. "Hey, that pool is around here!" he cried. Fumbling with the safety belt, he threw it aside and grabbed a flashlight as he climbed out of the car. Would they find Seph there, like in his dream? Would they be able to get him away from whatever horrible thing he was going through? Or would there be nothing again?

Cloud blinked. "Pool?" he frowned. Then he noticed something. "Hey, take your cane!" he yelled, snatching up the crutch and waving it at Zack.

Zack turned, grabbing it, before beginning to limp ahead into the trees. There was no time to explain. Cloud would just have to come and see for himself. Zack had to get in there, to see if Seph was there. If Seph was hurt, then they could not waste another moment.

Cloud shook his head, leaping out of the Jeep and following his friend into the dense woods. In spite of Zack's injury, he was already far ahead. Cloud clicked on his flashlight, hurrying after him.

When he burst into the clearing a moment later, Zack was staring around the area, the hand on his cane vaguely trembling. The pool was to his left, the stars and moon's reflections rippling ever so slowly on the surface. At Zack's feet were several blue feathers. He had definitely noticed them. Now he was searching in desperation for something else, for someone else.

"Seph!" he screamed.

His voice echoed. The spot was desolate.

Cloud bent down, lifting up one of the feathers. There was blood on its base. And when he followed the direction of the blue growths with his eyes, it looked as though a body had been dragged through the grass. The trail stopped before the brush was gained.

"Somebody's taken him," he said, his voice low. "He's not here." The way the grass patterns went, Sephiroth had been on his back, his upper torso raised off the ground. If he had been on his stomach, and there were indications of where his arms had been in the grass, then maybe it could be decided that he had dragged himself after being hurt. But that was not the case.

Zack had fallen silent. He knew what Cloud said was the truth. And the pieces were starting to fall into place.

"A clone was here," he said. "That's how come the marks just stop. They teleported out. Hojo took Seph."

A chill ran up Cloud's spine, and not from the late winter weather. He had never heard that dark tone from Zack.

He rose, walking around to look Zack in the eyes. The heartache he could see was a spear to his own heart. And it was driven deeper by the presence of something else, something dark that Zack was struggling to control. To see the sheer hatred in Zack's eyes frightened Cloud. Zack had always been the strong one, the one who comforted Cloud and Sephiroth and tried to steer them right when they went astray. But even Zack had his breaking point. After everything Hojo had done, he could not take it any longer.

Again Cloud felt at a loss. What could he say? What could he do to help Zack over this barrier?

He reached out, gripping Zack's shoulder. "We're going to find him," he said. Hopefully he sounded more sure of it than he was.

Zack started, as if coming back to himself. Relief flooded his eyes for a brief moment. Cloud had brought him out of the hateful reverie he had been sinking into. And looking into Cloud's concerned blue eyes, he knew what was happening. But of course he would; Cloud had fought against his own darkness for years.

Zack reached up, grasping Cloud's hand. "Yeah," he agreed, "we will. We have to." A weak smile came over his features.

Cloud nodded. The hatred was not gone, but he had made Zack focus. At least for now.

Once they found Hojo, Cloud was not sure he would be able to control his own feelings, let alone to help Zack bridle his.