Disclaimer: I do not own FF7

Running

It all began so fast; Marlene is still reeling in the shock that this is actually happening. All there was was a scream and a shout and he was holding a girl by the throat and then it all became mad as kids were dragged from slumber by the chaos. He had laughed at them, grabbing them tightly before discarding them.

So they ran. Her feet beat against the wooden floor, as scared and desperate as the kids around her.

A lot of them are crying. Marlene only scrambles away faster, running from the laughing, terrifying man who mocks their fear. Tears are coursing down her face and she desperately wishes that her Papa or Tifa, or even Cloud where here to save them.

She hits a wall hardly and hurriedly races around the corner. An older boy pushes her back, waiting behind the corner, brandishing a brass candlestick in one hand. His face is pale under his dark mop of hair-Tiel's his name-and he motions her to keep on running before launching himself out and around the corner.

She does.

'Come out and play!' The deep, playful voice chuckles, ever coming closer 'We know you're her-agh!'

'Devil man!' She hears him shout.

A scream and a heavy thump, and Marlene cries harder as she scurries down the stairs. She trips and falls, tumbling down them heavily before landing in a broken pile at their feet. She is so bruised and sore, she cannot get up, but the man is walking down those stairs, slowly now, and she has to get away.

She begins to crawl, not even daring to look over her shoulder. Her knees and elbows are scraped raw and she is so afraid. She doesn't want to die!

He is laughing again, at her, and she sobs harder. She stumbles to her feet and runs into to something, knocking it over and falling down again.

His heavy footsteps stop just behind her. She squeezes her eyes shut and curls up into a little ball. He is going to kill her.

Cid smokes a cigarette as he watches his men unload the heavy crates that he has transported here to Mideel. They had some of the grain from Rocket Town, as well as rice and a whole damn bunch of oriental herbs and spices from Wutai. That sort of product was quiet popular in this small, isolated town,

It was a profitable business, delivering the planets global trade by air, if not a hard one. The hours were long and tiring, and he was away from his wife and home for long periods of time. Then again, nothing else could ever satisfy Cid's unquenchable thirst for the skies.

'You wouldn't mind lendin' us a hand, would ya, C'ptain?' one of the crew jokes from where he and another carry a smaller crate of 'Rocket Town Homegrown Tea.' They are all sweating like pigs in this heat, and he doesn't envy them.

Cid raises an eyebrow at the man.

'What? Is that complaining I hear? D'you want your salary docked, scum?' He mock-scowls at them all, chomps on his fag, before continuing on his way, pretending not to notice the loving two fingered salute they send him behind his back.

'That's latrine duty for the week, Jonston,' he calls over his shoulder, changing his mind. The named man curses as his friend's laugh.

It's hot in Mideel, and humid, the sort that there's no escaping from even indoors. He wipes a hand over his sweaty forehead, wondering where this place was when they invented the breeze. Not even the evening air had softened it. If anything, it made it worse.

He didn't like making the crew work so late in condition like this, but they had been behind schedule, and Cid was never someone to leave a job for the morrow.

The town has changed a lot, over the past two years. It was no longer a hole in the ground for a start. The town had rebuilt itself to a respectable size now. The locals aren't too bad either, despite the fact that they don't seem to realize how stuffy their humid, tropical paradise is.

The local merchant approaches, smiling widely as he views the stock Cid's men are hauling out. Cid scans an eye around the loading for his second mate and eyes him over.

'Ah, Mister Highwind! Again you bring many good stuff to us, yah?' The little man grins again before offering Cid a cigarette to replace the one he's just spat on the ground. He declines.

'Nah, thanks mate. I'm trying to quit.'

'Ah, yes, yes, of course.' Nodding but not really understanding Cid's special brand of humour.

That idiot Neil has finally walked over, bringing the cargo product list as well. He nods in acknowledgement to the Mideelian and hands the file over.

'It's all there, C'ptain, and almost all out.'

'Good, now go away.'

Neil rolls his eyes and performs an exaggerated bow.

'Yes, my king…' he returns to the unloading.

'Gnrr…' He turns to the merchant 'You heard him, it's all there, the usual…'

'Yes, thank you Mister Highwind, I have your payment here, I-'

'Ciiiiid!'

The man falters at the sound, Cid groans, waving a hand at the man to continue.

'CIIIID!'

Damn that girl, he thinks, she had probably lost some materia, or had caught one of the guys checking her out. He keeps a determined back to her, glaring at the confused man before him.

'Yeah? The same prices as usual. Neil can get that off you, now, do you wanna change your order for the next deliv-'

'CID!'

He whips around, glaring angrily at a panicked Yuffie.

'Can you NOT see that I'm TRYING to do BUSINESS here!?!'

Eyes wide, the girl looks up at him. He eyes her for a moment. She is not cross or angry or flustered, which makes him wary. She blinks, trembling a little as she holds out the PSH to him.

What the-?

'Cid…it's Edge…the bar-er-orphanage…' Yuffie's voice quavers, which is definitely unusual. Slowly, he takes the PSH from her hand as she continues.

'…it…it's been attacked.'

It had only been the frail tone of Elmyra's voice to tell Barret that something was up.

'What?' What is i' tha's wrong Elmyra?'

The woman on the line broke down and sobbed. He sets his jaw, worried for his little girl and his friends in Edge.

'Elmyra?'

'…'

'Elmyra!'

'I'm sorry!' She cries, before taking a breath to calm herself. He's getting jumpy, and worried. At any moment he feels like he'll snap with the tension and dread, because gods know he's not the most patient of men 'Oh Barret…it's…this m-man…h-he attacked us-'

'WHAT?!' he roars, and his co-workers around him look up from their lockers, stunned.

'…and hurt some of the kids, a-and o-one…one…s-sorry…' She stumbles over the words again. He flexes his mechanical hand, trying not to crush the PSH with his normal one '…an-and I can't get a hold of Tifa, a-and-'

'Don't say anymore, I'm coming over.' He hung up sharply, grabbed his sports bag and left the locker room with a face of steel.

If his little girl, or Tifa, was hurt, gods have mercy on the bastard who did it, as he, Barret Wallace, certainly wouldn't.

He has come in to check on Shotgun-

Grace. Grace is her name. The other one, Rod, had given her that nickname after she had bested Tseng in a one out of three bulls eye round using hand guns.

God, he hadn't thought about that in years. That was years back, when she was still as green as a bean sprout.

Reno clucks his teeth at the memory. Old Tseng had congratulated her, ever the good sportsman, and Rod had named her. Some of them used it, Tseng never did, neither did Rude, and she never referred to herself as Shotgun either.

Still, it had stuck, for a while.

'Brought you present.' He says lazily, throwing the magazine on the bed as he saunters in. She looks at him coolly and raises an eyebrow.

'Thank you.' Her brow furrows slightly as she picks it up. Reno had brought her the tackiest, trashiest women's magazine he could find. Deliberately. He wanted to see her reaction.

She thumbs through it briefly, before sighing to herself and putting it to the side.

Reno is disappointed. What was he expecting? A scolding for the eighty-five pages of crap he offered as entertainment? Elena would have done that, even though she read stuff that was little better.

Yes, maybe that was what he had been expecting, or hoping for. Stupid really. For sisters, they certainly had little in common, apart from their looks and choice of weapon. And their reverence for regulation and authority, but that was it.

'So, how're ya today? Remembered anything interesting yet?' He flops down onto the low seat. Boss man thinks that she is more likely to tell one of them what she remembers, instead of a shrink.

'Mm…' She doesn't look at him 'I remember my father…'

Reno cocks his head, almost interested. She shakes her head at him.

'Not much. Not even his name…I just…' Her frown is more pronounced now 'I know he wanted a son, but he got me instead…so…I tried to make it up to him by…'

Her voice falters, and she shakes her head more vigorously this time, like she's trying to clear away the fog.

Reno reaches a hand behind his collar to scratch at the itch on his back. Grace isn't speaking anymore, just staring out the window. Evening is setting in.

'Anything else?' he prompts, but his heart isn't really in it. He doesn't want to hear her memories, not the childhood ones. Neither does Rufus. Rufus wants to know how she got to be where they found her.

Reno doesn't know if he wants to hear that either. He was never the counseling type. Leave that to Rude, Tseng, Elena. Heck, anyone but him.

'I-' She balks, like she is unsure what to say. She holds out her hands in front of her face, before gently, even gingerly, folding them over her stomach.

'I…sometimes dream I'm falling…landing in a sea of green…' Her voice is very quiet now 'and when I wake up, my stomach…tingles…on the scar…'

Something in Reno's own stomach drops, heavy weight. She couldn't be-

Yes, she could, the rational part of his mind reasons. It wouldn't be too surprising if her subconscious brain relived the moment she…died whilst she slept.

He rubs his chin, the relaxed, unbothered façade up.

'Weird…but dreams usually are. I had one once of Rude eating a bunch of flowers. Don't know why.' He stretches his arms, letting the lie slip off his tongue easily. Rude eating flowers? Where he'd pulled that one from, Reno did not know.

His cell beeps in his pocket, he looks at it curiously before lazily reaching for it, flipping it open and answering it.

'Y-ello?'

'Reno?'

'Rude, baby, how've ya been?'

He can almost here Rude's scowl on the other end of the line.

'Reno, Rufus wants you up here right away. We going to have a visitor.'

'What?'

'No questions. Now.'

Rude hung up. Reno scowls at the phone, before shoving it back into his pocket. He's got a bad feeling about this, and he wonders what the fuck Rufus is up too. He shrugs off the worry and stands.

'Well then, baby doll, I gotta shoot out now.' She looks at him solemnly; he throws her a grin that he doesn't feel 'Don't miss me too much.'

He leaves. He can feel her gaze on the back of his neck as he does so. It makes him shiver.

As soon as the door closes she stands up. She waits until the lock has clicked and his footsteps have faded down the hallway before she goes to the window in three long strides.

Grace stands there, for a moment, unsure.

Now, she has to get out now. Something is niggling at the back of her brain, gnawing, telling her she has to get out of here.

It's quiet lucky, actually, that Rufus has a visitor to keep him and the two Turks occupied. Grace wonders if it is coincidence or just pure luck. Either way, it doesn't matter.

She tries the window catch, hoping on a whim that it will be open. It, naturally, isn't. She bites her lip, staring at the thick glass. She taps it with her fingernails, stalling.

Enough, she tells herself.

Determined, she walks back to the bed, stripping off the crisp white sheets in a professional, business-like manner which slightly surprises her. Using her teeth to make a tear, she rips the sheet into long strips. Briefly she wonders if they have her room on video security, before concluding that it probably wasn't. It was, after all, first and foremost a hospital room.

The sheet is now effectively mutilated beyond recognition. Briskly, Grace begins winding the strips of linen around her right fist. Over and over, she wraps the material over her knuckles and lower fingers. Like a boxer, she thinks wryly, not that she ever remembers seeing one in the flesh.

She ties the end securely; her fist is thickly padded now. She clenches it and hits the palm of her left hand softly, hoping it will provide enough protection.

Back to the window, then. She's decided to punch through the lower panel, it's only logical. Grace flexes her fist in anticipation, before throwing a cautious glance behind her.

There is no one there, of course.

Gotta get out, the little voice tells her, it is time, now's the time, go!

She breathes in; swings back her fist, and punches.

'Ah-fuck!'

She recoils in pain, burst of white-hot fire sears up over her hand and arm. Eyes clenched shut, she stamps the floor hardly, trying not to curse out in pain.

'…shit-shit-shit-shit…' she mutters under her breath.

She glances down at her hand, wincing as she sees the stark red blood over the white linen. Her left hand grips her wrist tighter and she crouches on the ground.

'Dammit…' she whispers fiercely, angry at the stinging tears plaguing her eyes. She thought that she was stronger then this!

Breathe deeply, big breaths, calmness, ok, things will be just fine. She risks another look at her hand.

It's not as bad as she first thought. The pain has lessened a little, now more of a pulsating throb then a burning fire. There's one long chunk of glass that had sliced right through her makeshift glove, making her bleed. Gingerly she touches it, wincing as the pain flares up as it moves.

'Ok…ok…I can do this…'

Setting her jaw, she grips the shard of glass with her fingernails, takes a deep breath, and yanks it out.

'Ohr-gord-'

She almost passes out, but manages not to. Cradling her hand, Grace screws up her face and tries to tell herself that she's being a sissy.

She doesn't care.

It hurts, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts, it HURTS!

It's a little while until she calms down. She realizes that she's sweating like a pig. An exasperated chuckle escapes her at this thought. She opens her eyes and examines her hand again.

Stupid fist is bleeding.

Grace grits her teeth and removes the smaller shards without much trouble. Quickly, she unwinds and rewraps the bloody linen strips, this time a bandage instead of a glove. She looks at the window to admire her handiwork.

It's quiet shattered, but still relatively intact. Cracks snake their way across the window pane. It won't take much to get the rest of the fractured glass on the floor though. There's a nice little hole attributed to yours truly in the middle.

Right. On with the show.

She treads carefully back to the bed, jittery. There's only so much protection hospital slippers can give your feet from broken glass. Ripping off the blanket and fitted sheet, she covers both hands before proceeding to push and punch out the rest of the window.

The feeling of urgency is growing stronger, bordering on the edge of panic. Surely someone would have heard her hit the glass? Her breathing quickens and another wave of sweat pores out of her body.

She gives a little growl as she rips off the last of the jagged glass. The bottom frame needs to be as clear as possible if she doesn't want to lose more blood.

But, time is a wasting. The blankets are now torn and a little bloody. She throws it over the windowpane as padding, folding it as much as possible to protect her already scratched skin.

Let's make like a banana and split. Her kid sister used to say that, when they were very young. Before they grew apart. Before-

No, concentrate on getting outta here!

She scrambles out the window, wincing as the sides scrape at her body. She falls ungracefully to the ground in a heavy heap.

'gnnrrr…'

Her knuckles are throbbing more painfully now, and the cuts along her body sting like they've been rubbed with salt. She realizes that she's landed on glass shards that had fallen outside.

'…nice one.' She mutters to no one, still on her back and staring at the evening sky. Grace sighs.

Something in her scolds her for lazing around. Go on, get up on your feet, now! Slowly, she picks herself up off the dirt ground (why couldn't it have been grass?) She lost her slipper some where in her tumble out the window, and she has to hop on one foot before finding it again. She picks off the glass embedded in her skin, not wincing at the bloody marks that litter her body. Something is turning into steel inside of her. Grace squares her shoulders and straightens her back, taking in a deep breath, before striding confidently forward.

Grace has left the building.

Authors note: Oh my gawd, so sorry about the long wait, I just came to a complete brain stump with regards to this fic, which I only just broke out of. So sorry for making you all wait!!

I know its moving kinda slow on the plot front, but i love delving into different characters heads. Hopefully things will be back on track and moving forward, so hopefully you're still willing to join the ride(god that sounded goofy.)

By the way, I love writing about Cid, he's such an awesome character XD

Anyway, all thoughts and opinions appreciated, but no biggie, I understand that it HAS been a while (sorry again!)